Just Close Enough To Touch
by A fool who thinks they're wise
Summary: Merthur version of Series 4, episode 9, Lancelot Du Lac. In which Arthur is totally head over heels for Merlin, but can't get his head out or his arse long enough to realize it, Gwen is long suffering, Lancelot is more than a bit confused, and Merlin will turn them all (especially Gwaine) into toads so help him Albion, if Arthur keeps insisting he's a useless little damsel.
1. Chapter 1

Hello all!  
Where here it is, ages after I said I would do it.  
The second part of my episode oneshots, Merthurized for your enjoyment.  
It could be read as a stand-alone, but it would probably make more sense if you read  
the first one.  
**Spoilers for series 4 episode 1-9.**  
**I don't own Merlin or any of the characters, those belong to the BBC.  
Enjoy!**

* * *

It's at times like these that Merlin found himself wondering if all those blows to Arthur's head have, contrary to what Gaius claimed, given him lasting brain damage after all. Because there they were, in the pouring rain, like they had been for the better part of _three hours_ now, all for the sake of a few more boar heads to stick on various walls throughout the castle (boar heads that Merlin will no doubt be expected to care for) because the hundreds already there aren't good enough. The whole thing was pointless, a fact that Merlin had pointed out rather loudly and repeatedly for said past three hours, earning him several glares from Arthur and sympathetic looks (though Merlin had noticed several smirks as well) from the knights.

Merlin shouldn't even have to be here, he should be back at the castle, sitting by the fire in Arthur's room and letting magic do his chores until the dollop head returned.

He shivered and tucked his arms tighter against his chest; oh what he wouldn't give for a fire right about now.

Arthur always complained about his presence on these trips anyway, saying that he scared off the game and was more of a danger to himself than any kind of furry woodland creature when wielding a crossbow. Yet, that same Arthur always insisted on dragging him along anyway every time his royal pratness got the urge to simultaneously freeze and drown while attempting to kill things for fun.

Prat.

Though, Merlin grudgingly acknowledged, if Arthur had to go out and kill things it was probably better that Merlin was with him. Knowing Arthur and his uncanny ability to attract danger, he'd probably manage to get himself attacked by bandits or Morgana or rogue squirrels (rising up against the tyranny of Prattish Kings); and then Merlin would be forced to leave his warm fire anyway in order to save him (again.)

Merlin snapped a (his thousandth) twig beneath his boot and winced when Arthur spun around and fixed him with a look that Merlin was dead certain had killed lesser men. Next to him, Leon let out a small "huff" sound of exasperation, but Merlin was fairly sure the corners of his mouth twitched like Elyan's as Merlin caught the dark skinned knight rolling his eyes. Gwaine shot him a smirk and patted him comfortingly on his shoulder. Merlin, in return, shot him his best "I am the most powerful sorcerer in **all** of **Albion** and I **will** turn you into a **toad**" look (or, as Gwaine liked to call it, his _**aggressive**_ _pout_) and, as usual, all it did was make Gwaine laugh; albeit silently because Gwaine had no desire to be on the receiving end of one of the royal princess's haughty glares.

Though unfortunately he got one anyway due to the all-seeing eyes on the back of Arthur's head. Merlin smirked at Gwaine and patted him comfortingly on the shoulder, causing Gwaine to scowl and throw his hand off before ruffling Merlin's hair and moving ahead of him, though he took care to stay behind Arthur's eye line. Things between the Arthur and Gwaine had been slightly tense ever since the incident with the Dorocha; and Gwaine had been careful to treat Arthur like a knight would his king and not his friend.

Merlin didn't remember being dead, which he suspected was probably a good thing, and his journey to get there was nothing but flashes of certain faces and scenery amid a constant low murmur of voices that were occasionally drowned out by one or two particular voices; such as Arthur's or Gwaine's or Lancelot's.

Lancelot.

The knight, and one of his closest friends, had saved him, _and Arthur_, taking over Merlin's job where he failed so spectacularly.

Gwaine had explained the whole thing to him as he bustled around to find more blankets to wrap Merlin in. The two had gone to the river after Gwaine had an argument of some kind with Arthur (though he didn't go into much detail), where beings called Villia, who were spirits of the brooks and streams, had confronted them.

The Villia had told them they could heal Merlin with water from their stream, but Gwaine had been unsure of whether or not to trust these magical beings. He had refused to consider their words until Lancelot had gotten so frustrated trying to convince him that he had blurted out that _Merlin _was a magical being and Gwaine didn't deserve to be his friend if he would regard him any differently because of it.

Merlin had stiffened at that part, holding his breath and clenching his fists tight as he waited for Gwaine to run him through with sword and declare him a traitor to Camelot and Arthur; but all Gwaine had done was lean down and ruffle Merlin's hair before clasping his shoulder affectionately; telling him that he was one hell of a secret keeper, and swearing on his life that he would be just as good as him. Merlin was filled with a rush of relief and thanked the Gods that he had been given such a good friend in Gwaine.

Though Gwaine had agreed to the plan, that wasn't to say that it had worked. He and Lancelot had tried to get as much water past Merlin's lips as they could, but there had been no improvement in his condition, and in the end, they had only made it as far as the banquet hall when Merlin's life finally came to its surcease.

As it turned out though, luck (and Gwaine's clumsiness) was on Merlin's side, and as Gwaine attempted to rouse him, he had spilled the water from the stream all over Merlin; allowing the Villia had worked their magic on his limp form, managing against all odds to bring him back from the precipice of death ("They should've just _said _that all we had to do was dunk you." Gwaine grumbled.)

When Merlin's eyes had fluttered open, his skin was still cold, but he was shivering; a massive benediction over the somber stillness that had formally pervaded his body. A warm fire, several of the knight's cloaks, and Gwaine's fussing (Though it should be noted that Merlin firmly refuted his plan to cuddle naked in order to get the warlock's body temperature back up. "There are some things Gwaine…") had managed to warm Merlin up soon enough.

By the time the others had returned, Merlin and Gwaine had been arguing over Merlin's determination to follow Arthur and offer himself up to the Calliach in his place, and the door slamming open had startled the both of them.

But the sight of Arthur's face, with his, almost comically wide, blue eyes and blonde hair, had filled Merlin with a warmth that no fire or blanket in the world could compete with. And when Arthur had practically flown across the room and wrapped Merlin up in his arms, Merlin had felt such a strong surge of belonging and devotion that he wanted nothing more to burrow into Arthur's embrace and remain there forever.

This feeling, and Arthur's actions, had caught him off guard momentarily, and it was a moment before he had tentatively returned the embrace. And when it was over, he was acutely aware of the loss of heat and shivered slightly; an action that hadn't gone unnoticed by Arthur, who went and got him another cloak as the knights all welcomed him back to the living with smiles, though slightly strained, before sitting down beside him and taking over Gwaine's spot fussing at Merlin's side. Gwaine had regarded Arthur with a cold look, his normally carefree eyes narrowed harshly, and turned abruptly away, marching out the door and calling over his shoulder that he was going to collect more firewood.

It was around that time that Merlin had looked around, confused, before turning back to Arthur and asking where Lancelot was.

If Merlin closed his eyes, he could still see the look that had Arthur given him and feel the way all the air rushed out of his lungs; leaving him breathless and desperate for something that, unlike warmth, was no longer within his reach.

Lancelot; the knight who had known about his magic and not judged him for it, the one that he had run to whenever he had figured out a new spell and was dying to show someone. The one that had come into his chambers after the execution of the first sorcerer under Arthur's rule as Prince Regent (heavily **encouraged** by Agravaine) and had woken him from his nightmare about burning on the pyre while Arthur watched, as cold, cruel and unforgiving as his father, from the balcony above.

He had held Merlin as he cried himself back to sleep, his whole body shaking from his sobs as he breathed heartsick whispers into Lancelot's ear. How he was so tired, of hiding who he was, what he could do, what he had done, and all for Arthur, only for him. As Lancelot's hand rubbed soothing circles into his back, Merlin had whispered how he longed to be free, to serve Arthur openly and without fear of being dragged away by the guards and thrown into the dungeons to await the flames that would lick greedily at his skin until they consumed him; body and soul.

He had whispered the deep seated fear that Arthur wouldn't believe a word he had spoken after finding out what he was, that Arthur would hate him. That he would claim that Merlin had betrayed him and that any sort of affection or kinship between the two had been a result of a sorcerer's enchantments, not his own feelings. In the dark of that room, filled with the cadence of his soft sobs and Lancelot's soothing murmurs, Merlin had spoken of things that that he refused to admit to himself even now; things that he couldn't find it in himself to look at in the light of day.

And when the next sorcerer had been executed, Lancelot had taken him out to the Rising Sun and watched him carefully while he drank himself to the point of unconsciousness in an attempt to drown out the sound of the sorcerer's screams and the way his eyes had found Merlin's in the crowd. The way that they had stared, almost accusingly at him, as though he knew what Merlin was, and silently damned him for standing there by the Prince's side and watching his own kin die.

Lancelot had carried him back to his room and listened to him ramble feebly and sob until he fell asleep, making sure to write Gaius a note to ask him to prepare his hangover remedy the next morning before heading to his own bed.

By the time the fifth sorcerer was executed, Merlin no longer fell apart in the aftermath of the burnings, but Lancelot continued to hang around him afterwards, under the pretense of a friendly chat, a game of dice, or asking Merlin to join him for a drink. Merlin was grateful for this, and thankful that he had such a man as his friend, though he suspected that looking after Merlin was not without his advantages to Lancelot either.

At the very least, it seemed to temporarily take his mind off Gwen, who Merlin knew managed to make his heart ache painfully every time he passed her by in the streets of the lower town, or the halls of the castle. Merlin could tell that he loved her a great deal, (though that was no great secret, a **blind** man could see his feelings for her) but refused to come between Arthur and her. And though Merlin would be lying if he didn't spy a spark of that same affection for him hidden within Gwen's eyes whenever the two passed each other, for the most part, she had seemed content with that.

And in the end, Lancelot had walked through the veil between the two worlds for her, so that she could live a long and happy life with Arthur.

Though Merlin wasn't so sure anymore if that would come to pass.

After the isle of the blessed, Arthur had been…different; and for the first few weeks after they had returned, he had ordered Merlin to stay by his side even more than he usually did, as though he was worried the second he let Merlin out of his sight that something might happen to him. His councilors and Agravaine had regarded Merlin with thinly veiled suspicion at best, as though he was trying to worm his way into the Prince's good books so that Arthur would take his advice over theirs, and _not _fighting desperately to keep his eyes open through all of the positively_ stimulating_ debates about taxes and the advantages of this trade route over that one. (Though, admittedly, he had managed to convince Arthur to go against raising the tax on wheat about a week back, but that had been a joint effort on his, Gwen's and Gaius's part. And that had been a matter of necessity; despite whatever garbage Agravaine had spewed, the people could barely afford the tax as it was.)

Merlin frankly thought the whole thing was ridiculous, (not the trade route discussions, he was sure those were very important despite their innate ability to make him drowsy for the rest of the day) he could take care of himself, as he told Arthur several times over those first weeks; only to have his complaints waved away or just flat out ignored.

Still, Merlin didn't realize just how different Arthur was until the Lamia incident, when Arthur had come running through the door and to Merlin first instead of Gwen; frantically running his shaking hands up and down Merlin's body to make sure that there was no damage. Only stopping when Merlin closed his own hands around them and practically shouted that he was all right. Arthur had met Merlin's gaze and after a moment the tension had flown from his body and he had relaxed before turning to Gwen and asking if she was all right.

She had merely nodded, a strange look in her eyes that had made Merlin flush as she regarded the two of them.

That had been when Merlin had noticed the gap between the two of them, an almost unbridgeable distance that he was unsure how to fix and, more worryingly, if he even wanted to.

Because, if he was honest with himself, he liked the attention that Arthur gave him, the way he showed that he cared for him and treated him like he was more than just a servant.

He liked the way that Arthur's eyes met his early in the morning when Arthur wasn't quite awake yet, giving Merlin a glimpse of glimmering affection that Merlin could pretend was similar in nature to the affection that thrummed through his own veins. The affection that sang underneath his skin as his breath stopped momentarily when the sunlight caught Arthur's hair and spun it gold, when his fingers brushed over Arthur's skin as he dressed him. Affection that mingled with a sense of pride as he watched Arthur make decisions that revealed the great King he would become.

He even enjoyed the arguments that the two had, the playful banter that separated them from any other master and servant that he knew.

And the thought of Arthur married and happy with another, his attentions placed on his Queen rather than his closest confident, made Merlin's heart ache painfully for a reason that he knew had no place in either his mind or his heart.

But he was also painfully aware that, though Arthur may care for him as a friend, it was only as a friend, and nothing more. If he did…well, Merlin had dropped more than enough ignored hints about his own feelings for his King for Arthur's friendship to be anything but.

And anyway, even if he did, Arthur still needed a Queen to rule beside him to provide both an heir and stability for his kingdom; no matter how much Merlin secretly wished otherwise.

So that meant he would have to find some way to bridge the distance between the two and bring them back together once more.

Which he would have to accomplish with the use of…feelings.

Right.

When he had gone to ask Kilgarrah for help, having come up with nothing on his own, the dragon had just nodded its great head slightly before telling him that no matter what _Destiny Would Take Its Course_ and that Merlin _Still Couldn't Choose His_ _Destiny_; as per usual.

Merlin sighed not-so quietly, shivering again as the rain continued to soak through his thin tunic, having already managed to penetrate his jacket, and continued to trudge forward after Arthur; so distracted by praying that the cold would eventually pierce Arthur's thick skull and convince him to give the order to turn back, that he almost missed the bush before them rustling; attracting everyone's attention and crossbows.

Arthur regarded the bush carefully for a moment before signaling for the knights to surround it. He beckoned for Merlin to come over, shifting in front of him slightly when he did so. Merlin rolled his eyes and raised his hands slightly, running through a list of spells in his mind as he prepared to protect Arthur should the bush reveal something decidedly more terrifying than a furry woodland creature.

The rustling in the bushes started up again, more pronounced this time, until finally the focus of their attention stumbled out; only saved from ending up on the receiving end of a crossbow bolt by Merlin as he pushed Arthur's arm down at the last moment.

"What the hell do you think you're doing—" Arthur's protest was swiftly cut off as he took in the figure before him, jaw dropping in shock. Beside him, Merlin's eyes were wide with wonder and amazement.  
"Lancelot." He breathed, half afraid that if he spoke any louder the force of his voice would shatter the revenant of his friend into pieces.

* * *

"What troubles you so?" Morgana asked; a slight edge of boredom caught on her tone, as Agravaine paced the dirt floor of her hovel.

Agravaine paused in his pacing for a moment for shaking his head and waving his hand dismissively. "It's nothing Milady."  
Morgana raised her eyebrows. "It's clearly enough to inspire you to try and wear out my floor."  
Agravaine stopped pacing at the steel edge in her voice and forced himself to stand still.

"It's the boy, Merlin." He admitted, and Morgana glanced up at him sharply. "Ever since the Dorocha incident he and Arthur have become inseparable, more so than they were before."

"I wouldn't have thought such a feat possible." Morgana remarked, tone dry though her eyes narrowed slightly. "And this concerns you how?"  
Agravaine shifted forward, clasping his hands before him. "It didn't particularly Milady, but a few days ago I heard the boy telling Arthur to go against some advice I had given him regarding some taxes that the council was considering raising." He glanced down at his hands. "At the time, Arthur rebuked him, told him to go muck out the stables if I recall correctly. But later in council he announced his decision to keep the taxes as they were."

"So you were wearing down my floor because Arthur's servant managed to convince him not to raise some measly taxes?" Morgana asked, rolling her eyes.  
Agravaine regarded Morgana carefully before speaking. "Milady. I fear you may be missing the point.

"Then enlighten me." Morgana returned coldly.

Agravaine pulled up a stool and sat down, meeting her gaze with a very noticeable swallow. "For now, it's just small matters, like taxes, but what happens when he manages to turn Arthur against suggestions that we need Arthur's agreement for so that our plans may come to fruit? The boy is already suspicious of me; who's to say that he couldn't turn Arthur against me as well?"

Morgana remained still for a moment before nodding. "I see your point." She stood up, making her way over to the shelves that housed her many magical instruments.

"You said this all began after the Dorocha incident, correct?"

Agravaine watched her, curiosity beginning to grow on his features. "Yes."  
"Do you happen to know if there was anyone who Merlin was close to before that?"  
Agravaine's brow furrowed. "There are a few of the knights that hold Merlin quite dear to their hearts, but I can't recall one that was closer to him than Arthur."

"What about Lancelot, the one who perished?" Morgana asked, "Were they close?"  
Agravaine looked even more confused. "Well, I don't know, I didn't pay much attention to him back then." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Though I seem to recall that when Merlin collapsed during the Beltane feast, Lancelot was the one to carry him back to his room." He shook his head. "But, why does it matter whether or not the two of them were close? Lancelot's dead, he's no help to us now."

Morgana's lips curved into a serpentine smile. "Don't be so certain."  
She grabbed something off of one of the shelves, tying her travelling cloak around her and tucking it into the folds. "Head back to the castle my dear Agravaine; and rest assured I will take care of this little problem."

Agravaine rose to his feet as she made her way to the door. "Where are you going, Milady?" He asked, curiosity riddling the concern in his voice.

"To claim a gift from my sister." She called back, before letting the door swing closed behind her.

* * *

A smile lit up Lancelot's face as he bowed to Arthur, the hood of his traveling cloak obscuring his face in shadow for a moment before he lifted it again.

"My King, I apologize for my long absence."

"Lancelot?" Elyan's astounded voice rang around them as the other knights came back into Merlin's view, all of them staring in shock at the figure before them.  
"Is it really you?" Gwaine asked, suspicion overlaying the hope in his tone.  
Lancelot nodded, smile still on his face. "I am as surprised as you."

"Lancelot." Merlin breathed, a grin breaking onto his face.

Lancelot met his eyes and his smile turned into a blinding grin. "Hello Merlin."

Merlin let out a breathy laugh and started towards him, only to be pulled back sharply by Arthur. Merlin shot him a look of confusion and slight anger before tugging at the hand currently restraining him. "Arthur, what—?"

Arthur tugged Merlin closer. "You'll have to forgive me, old friend." He called to Lancelot, eyes sweeping up and down the knight warily. "But, as I'm sure you're aware, it's not every day someone comes back from the dead." He tightened his grip around Merlin's arm as he felt him trying to shift out of his grip, earning him a raised eyebrow from Gwaine, several strange looks from the rest of the knights, a calculating look from Lancelot that seemed to see right into him, and one of Merlin's aggressive pouts. "We'll have to have Gaius check you over."

Lancelot nodded and bowed his head again, but kept his eyes on Merlin. "Of course, my King."

Arthur signaled for the rest of the knights to flank Lancelot before turning back towards the castle, keeping his hand on Merlin's arm the whole time.

* * *

When they arrived back at the castle, Arthur ordered Leon and Elyan to take Lancelot to Gaius's rooms, with instructions to send Gaius up later with his findings. Percival and Gwaine looked slightly relieved, making their way back to their chambers in order to change out of their drenched attire.

Leon and Elyan looked slightly less than pleased but followed through with his order all the same. Arthur watched them disappear down the corridor before announcing that he wished to change and ordering a shivering Merlin (who no doubt wished to change into dry clothes as well) to follow him back to his chambers.

"Do you think it's really him?" Merlin asked through his chattering teeth once they had reached Arthur's chamber and the King was behind his screen changing. "Do you think he really managed to come back from the dead?"

"We'll know once Gaius returns with his findings, won't we?" Arthur replied as he hung his wet clothes over the privacy screen and motioned for Merlin to hand him his dry ones. "Though I have no doubt that if anyone could do it, Lancelot could."

Merlin handed him the clothes before darting back to the fireplace and shifting uncomfortably in his own wet clothes. "Right, if that's all you need, can I go change into dry clothes of my _own_ now?

Arthur ignored the disrespect and sarcasm that laced Merlin's words as he dried himself with a towel. "So you can bother Gaius with your bumbling about?"

"So I can change out of these clothes before I catch my death." Merlin shot back with another deep shiver.

Arthur froze for a fraction of a second as he pulled his tunic over his head, mind suddenly flooded with images of Merlin's dull eyes sliding closed as his fingers tingled from the memory of freezing skin beneath them.

"Arthur?" Merlin's voice pulled him out of his thoughts and he finished pulling the tunic over his head before walking out from behind the screen and over to his closet.

He riffled through it for a moment under Merlin's confused gaze before pulling out a worn and faded red tunic and pale brown breeches. He opened the lower cupboard and grabbed a pair of worn hunting boots before turning back to face Merlin.

"Here," He held them out to Merlin, shaking them slightly when his manservant just continued to regard him with confusion. "Change into these, before you really do catch your death like the idiot you are."

Merlin glanced down at the clothes before clutching tighter at his own clothes, scowling slightly and raising an eyebrow. "Why can't I just go down to my room and change into my own clothes."

_Because until we know that he really is Lancelot, he's dangerous._ Arthur bit back, as he let out a sigh of exasperation.

"Because I don't want you tripping over yourself and everyone around you when Gaius is in the middle of the no doubt delicate process of trying to determine whether or not one of my knights really has returned from the dead." Arthur told him, before shoving the clothes at Merlin more forcefully.

_I don't want to see you hurt.  
_

Merlin gave another half-hearted grumble before grabbing the clothes from Arthur and moving behind the privacy screen. Arthur allowed himself a smug smile of satisfaction before pulling up one of his chairs close to the fireplace and settling in.

"Won't Agravaine have a fit if he sees a servant wearing the King of Camelot's clothes?" Merlin called through the screen as he tugged off his jacket and pulled his equally soaked tunic over his head, barely hiding the bitterness in his voice as he said the lord's name. Arthur frowned at the way Merlin said his Uncle's name, though he found that he couldn't blame him for holding a grudge after what had happened with Gaius; the old man was too much like a father to him for him to be able to forgive Agravaine's mistake so easily. And Arthur knew all too well how it felt to lose a parent; he would never wish it on anyone, least of all Merlin.

"Servants are supposed to get their master's cast offs, Merlin." He called back, "I thought even you would know that."  
"Why haven't I gotten any from you before then?"  
Merlin's more than slightly accusing tone made Arthur's smirk grow.  
"I was fairly certain that you would have thrown them back in my face and accused me of poking fun at the way you dress."

Arthur took the sudden silence from behind the screen as a sign that he had been right.

Merlin emerged from behind the screen, scratching his head and flushing slightly as he did so. His neck was bare, exposing the pale column of his neck and his collarbones, as his neckerchief had been soaked as well. The fabric of Arthur's shirt drowned out his chest while still managing to come up a little shorter than his own tunic would have at the bottom. The pants came up to his ankles, and were almost as baggy on him as the shirt, though the boots felt a little tight around his feet. All in all, he felt slightly ridiculous, but at least he was dry and slightly warmer than he had been before.

Arthur felt a warm, fiery feeling flare through his chest at the strange sight of Merlin in his clothes and a flush rise to his cheeks as he quickly shook off the strange feeling; like he always did when it rose up to claw at him.

He smirked at Merlin instead. "Honestly Merlin, you're the skinniest thing I've ever seen in my life." He looked Merlin up and down appraisingly, though his words carried a serious weight to them. "Do you even eat?"

Merlin regarded him for a moment before rolling his eyes. "Maybe it's because I'm busy working my fingers to the bone for some prat of a King."

"A King that can throw you in the stocks whenever he feels like it." Arthur tossed the empty threat back, crossing his arms and trying to cover the slightly guilty look that flickered to life on his face for a brief moment.

Merlin opened his mouth, ready with a reply that, were said King anyone other than Arthur, most likely _would_ have landed him in the stocks, when they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Enter." Arthur called, tearing his gaze away from Merlin and towards the door, which opened to reveal Gaius.

Gaius paused a few steps into the room, taking in Merlin's state of dress and raising his eyebrow in a look almost as famous as Uther's hatred of magic.  
"Sire." He said, his eyes searching Merlin, who was flushing slightly and steadily avoiding his gaze, before turning towards Arthur. "I believe you sent for me."  
"Yes," Arthur acknowledged, rising from his chair. "I take it that you have finished examining Lancelot?"

Gaius nodded. "I have."

"And what is your opinion?" Arthur prodded.

"Apart from a slight chill from the weather, he appears to be in perfectly good health, Sire." The "Given that he was dead for several months" went unspoken but still managed to ring very loudly in the air around them.

"So it is him then?" Arthur asked, the beginnings of relief seeping into his chest.

Gaius hesitated, and the relief froze in its tracks and became icicles of dread threatening to pierce the hope that had risen up within him.  
"I cannot say for certain, Sire, but it does appear to be so."  
Arthur absorbed the information as Merlin let out a sigh of relief that Arthur couldn't bring himself to feel. "What had he to say about his miraculous return?"  
"He claims he does not remember what transpired during his time in the other world, nor how he was able to return from it; only that he owes his life to the Mudhabi people; who he spent a great deal of time with before he made his way back to Camelot." Gaius informed him, and Arthur didn't miss the way his features betrayed no semblance of emotion or opinion.

"And what have you to say about all this, Gaius?" He inquired.

Gaius hesitated for a moment, using the time to clasp his hands in front of his robes.

"All, I know is that it is not a common occurrence for people to return from the dead, Sire."

"So do we all," Arthur replied, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "I was asking for your opinion about what we should do about it."

"I feel my opinion is similar to your own, my lord." Gaius told him carefully.

"Humor me." Arthur gestured for Merlin to pour him a glass of wine.

"I would exercise caution, but not openly enough for him to be made aware of your suspicions, lest we give him reason to act or end alienating one of our allies."

Arthur took the wine from Merlin's grasp and sipped it, mulling over Gaius's words.  
"Has he made any requests?"  
"He has asked to see Merlin, but nothing other than that."

Arthur's grip on the goblet tightened slightly, an action that had gone unnoticed by Merlin, who's eyes, filled with pleasant surprise, had finally met Gaius's; but not by Gaius, who was watching him carefully.

Arthur forced his hand to unclench from the goblet as he placed it down of the table, trying his best to ignore the puppy dog look that Merlin was shooting in his direction and the way it sent a wave of irrational aggravation through him.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Well then Merlin, though only the Gods know why someone would _willingly_ choose to be in your company, you'd better go."

Merlin gave a miniscule small bow that Uther would have sent him to the dungeons for before practically flying out of the room, stopping at the last moment when

Arthur called out. "After you've finished polishing my armor, that is."

Merlin turned and sent him an incredulous look, but didn't say anything, mindful of Gaius's presence. Arthur merely raised an eyebrow at him and Merlin shook his head before turning back to the door and muttering something treasonous under his breath that sounded suspiciously like: "Prat" as he continued out of Arthur's room and down the hall to the armory. Gaius glanced at Arthur carefully out of the corner of his eyes before giving a bow of his head and turning to leave as well.

"Gaius." Arthur called, stopping the court physician in his tracks.

"Sire?"

Arthur gestured for Gaius to come closer, and even when he did so, made sure to speak quietly. "I want you to keep on eye on Merlin."

"Merlin?" Gaius questioned, raising his eyebrow slightly, though he didn't appear to be surprised. "May I ask why?"

Arthur picked up his goblet again and took another deep sip before responding.

"He and Lancelot were good friends before his death," He met Gaius's gaze steadily, eyes firm with determination and conviction of his own. "I don't want to see him hurt."

Gaius said nothing and Arthur walked over to his window, taking his wine with him.

"Make sure to report back to me if you notice something's amiss with either of them."

"Understood, Sire." And as the door closed behind him, Arthur couldn't shake the feeling that he understood a whole lot more than he was letting on.

But then, he wouldn't be the only one.

* * *

Merlin stared at the armor before him, too caught up in his thoughts to focus on polishing it at the moment. Most of those thoughts centered around a certain golden haired prat (along with a plethora of other words that he could use to describe him) currently enjoying himself by a warm roaring fire, while Merlin was stuck down here in the frigid armory polishing his stupid armor that he had already polished _yesterday_.

And even more ridiculous was the reason behind it; Arthur worrying that Merlin was going to get hurt by Lancelot should it turn out that their friend was not who he seemed.

Oh yes, Merlin had seen through the whole: _order Merlin to go clean my armor so that he can't spend too much time with big bad Lancelot_ charade for exactly what it was; a ploy by Arthur, who was determined to stubbornly believe that Merlin couldn't look after himself, no matter how many times he tried to convince him otherwise.

Ire bubbling underneath his skin, he began rubbing furiously at the armor, which began to gleam just that little bit more under his attentions.

It was at moments like these that Merlin found himself regretting his decision (well, it wasn't really a decision, seeing as soon as Gaius had gotten wind of it he had forbidden Merlin to ever entertain the notion again) not to go around wearing a big point hat and proudly announcing the information that he had gathered from the druids and almost every other magical being he'd come into contact with.

That he was the most powerful sorcerer in all of Albion.

At the very least, it would finally drive it through Arthur's thick skull that Merlin could look after himself thank-you very much. Though the fact that the words, _the __**most powerful sorcerer**__ in __**all of Albion,**_ were much more likely to get his head chopped off than win Arthur's approval and convince the clotpole that he could look after himself put a slight damper on things.

But the fact of the matter was, if Lancelot was some sort of ghoul conjured up by Morgana or any of the many other sorcerers and witches that held a grudge against the Pendragon lineage, then Merlin should be spending _**more**_ time with him, not less. After all, the whole point of his destiny was to protect Arthur, which he could hardly accomplish if Arthur kept protecting him.

A small, feeble voice in the back of his mind hesitantly pointed out that secretly, according to the warm stirrings in his chest, a part of him was rather pleased that Arthur cared about him enough to try and keep him safe from harm. But he quickly silenced that voice with another forceful scrub at the armor in front of him.

And, what if Lancelot wasn't some new ghastly evil thrust at him to vanquish? What if he was just their friend, back from a harrowing journey to the other world, and looking for sanctuary back at the place that he had once called home?

If he was…

Guilt rose up within him along with his relief at the thought, tearing through the iron bars that he had only just managed to lock it away behind as though they were butter.

It should have been him to cross through the veil between worlds and pay the price needed for the tear to close.

The thought had tore at him without relief for the first few weeks after their return to Camelot; causing sleep to dangle out of his reach in the nights and images of Lancelot to bombard his mind during the day as he stumbled through the halls, barely lucid, that held so many memories of his fallen friend.

It was during one of those days that Gregory of Monmouth had summoned him to the library, along with the other knights that had accompanied Arthur to the isle of the blessed. He handed them all letters from Lancelot, mumbling uncomfortably in a way that Merlin supposed he thought was consoling. He recalled the way the paper touched his numb, trembling hands, and the way that Gwaine's hand had rested on his shoulder; trying to console and draw solace from him at the same time.

Gregory bustled away, clearing intending to give them all a moment of privacy to open the letters, but Merlin was fairly certain he caught him hiding behind the nearest bookshelf out of the corner of his eye.

The knights opened their letters while Merlin simply stared at his name on the paper, the curves on the letters of his name, the slight smudge of ink at the end of the 'n'.

He didn't want to open it.

If he opened it and read the words there, that would be it. Lancelot would be dead, his last words to Merlin read, and no vestige of him would remain for Merlin to soothe the ache in his heart with.

He moved his fingers over the ink, the trembling in them increasing as the air in the library seemed even more stifling; the meager amount he managed to breathe in getting caught in his throat before it could reach his struggling lungs.

Dimly, he was aware of Gwaine's voice in his ear, calling his name, but he backed away from the sound. He turned on his heel and fled the library for the more open stone hallways beyond it, the unopened letter still clenched in his hand.

For the next few days, he wandered the halls in an imitation of the revenant that Lancelot had become, only reminded of his corporal state, and how it should be otherwise, whenever he bumped into something or someone (who, more often than not, happened to be Arthur). The letter remained, unread, tucked away in his coat, carefully placed so the writing wouldn't smudge, until a week or so after Merlin had first received it.

He was in Arthur's room, bending down to pick up yesterday's clothes when the letter tumbled out of his jack and landed on the stone floor below.

He stared at it for a moment, before leaning down and picking it up, letting go of Arthur's clothes as he did so. He straightened up and regarded the letter as though it was the unholy offspring of the Questing Beast, fingers clenching the paper tightly.

And then fatigue swept through him in a wave, sending his shoulders slack and driving all resistance from his body as a sigh fell past his lips.

_**Gods**__,_ Merlin thought, feeling utterly stupid and ashamed, _it's just…it's just a __**letter**__. A plain, harmless, __**stupid fucking letter**__. A letter that Lancelot didn't write it to me just so that I could stick it in my coat and never even read it. _

He turned it over in his hands and broke the seal.

_Besides,_ He thought grimly, opening the letter and casting his eyes to the top of the page, _whether I read it or not, Lancelot will still be dead.  
_

_**And it'll still be my fault.**_

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to still his trembling hands and push down the surge of guilt that threatened to overtake him, before opening them again and focusing his gaze on the careful scrawl that littered the smooth paper.

_My dear friend, Merlin,_

_If you should ever find yourself reading this, then I will be dead, and so I would like to point out one very important thing before I continue.  
_

_My death isn't your fault._

_I know what you must be thinking; how can I know such a thing? Or more importantly, how do I know that you're currently blaming yourself for it?_

_That is because, my dear friend, I know you. _

_You are the most extraordinary man I know, and, though this may be considered treason to those who know nothing of what you have sacrificed for this Kingdom, in my eyes you surpass even Arthur in your devotion to this land and the bright future that you believe that it has. You are the bravest of us all Merlin, and I am without a doubt that you would have moved heaven and earth in order to try and prevent my death. _

_This may seem rather lofty of me, but I assure you, I don't make this assumption based on any misguided notion of my own worth, but on your character. You, who would risk your job and life in order to try and fulfill the dreams of this simple peasant that wished so desperately to be a knight of Camelot. You, that has given more to Arthur and to this Kingdom than either can ever hope to know of and continues to do so. You, that carry such a heavy and terrible burden on your shoulders, yet still manage to bring a smile to my, or any others', face whenever our feeble problems plague us. _

_You, Merlin, are a greater man than any of us can hope to be. _

_And let me tell you now, that whatever the circumstances of my death, I don't hold you, Arthur or any other responsible; and neither should you._

_You have a big heart Merlin, far bigger than any I have ever encountered, save for that of Gwen's, but as a consequence you allow yourself to be hurt far more often than any of your friends would like. _

_So, as my last request to you, Merlin, I must ask you this: that you take care of yourself as well as you do Arthur and Camelot. You have a tendency to forget your own wellbeing in order to look after theirs, and I ask that you try harder in the future not to do so. Though I will no longer be there to ensure that you do, I have little doubt that Arthur or any of our other friends will hesitate to pick up that particular duty in my absence. _

_And to finish Merlin, I must thank you. For giving me the opportunity to live out my dreams, for granting me access to this wonderful Kingdom, for introducing me to Gwen, and for granting me the chance to serve under an amazing man, an inspiring warrior and, no doubt some day, one of the greatest Kings in all of Albion._

But most of all, I must thank you for being my friend.

_Your faithful friend,  
_

_Lancelot_

"Merlin?"

Merlin jerked his head towards the doorway of the armory, torn out of his memories by Lancelot's worried voice, carrying through the chill of the room. Tears ran down his cheeks and struck the breastplate of Arthur's armor the same way they had struck the letter, smudging the ink and blurring the words as they did so.

Back then, Merlin would have given anything to see Lancelot's worried brown eyes staring back at him the way that they did now.

A hiccupped sob made its way past Merlin's lips into the quiet of the room along with a strangled version of his friend's name.

"Lancelot."

It was as though the name broke a spell holding said knight in place, and he swept into the room and to Merlin's side, kneeling down beside him and taking one of his pale, trembling hands in his own warm, strong, _**alive**_ one. "Merlin, what's wrong?"

Merlin stared at him for a moment, struggling to find the words to fit the tangled web of emotions constricting his throat.

"I'm just…" He trailed off uncertainly, raising his other hand to wipe away the tears falling down his cheeks, as he cleared his throat. "I was just…remembering some things."

He took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control of his body.

"I've spent so long thinking about what happened. Could I have saved you…and if there was anything I could've done…if I could've used—"

"Merlin." Lancelot interrupted, giving his hand a squeeze and bringing the other to rest on his shoulder. "Listen to me; there was nothing you could've done. To close the veil, a blood sacrifice _**had**_ to made. I am only grateful that it was me that ended up walking through that veil, and not you, Arthur or any of the others."

Merlin glanced up at him in disbelief. "But—"

"But nothing." Lancelot told him firmly. "My death wasn't your fault Merlin, and you shouldn't blame yourself for it; I certainly don't."

A single weight among the many that continued to drag the young warlock down toppled from Merlin's shoulders and sent a wave of forgiveness crashing through his veins; rendering him almost dizzy from relief.

Lancelot smiled as the tension seeped out of Merlin's features and moved his hand from Merlin's shoulder to brush his knuckles against Merlin's cheek.

Merlin stiffened slightly at the intimate gesture, something that the normally reserved Lancelot refrained from doing; an action that did not go unnoticed by the knight, who quickly pulled his hand away.

"You're freezing." He scolded lightly, eyes running up and down Merlin's attire. "And what are you wearing?"

Merlin rolled his eyes and shrugged, as though the odd moment had been forgotten, but suspicion still lingered in the recess of his mind. "Arthur gave me some of his old clothes to change into after we returned."

Lancelot raised his eyebrow. "That was considerate of him."

He stood, grabbing Merlin's hand and pulling him to his feet as he did so. "Still we'd better get you warmed up; the fire was still roaring in Gaius's chamber when I left."

Merlin found himself nodding, a shiver working its way through his body as the chill of the armory crawled under his skin and ghosted over his damp hair. If he strained his ears he was sure he could hear the fire in Gaius's chambers calling out to him; that he could already feel its warmth seeping into his skin and chasing out the cold like Lancelot's forgiveness had chased out his guilt.

_Please Gods,_ Merlin begged, tightening his grip on Lancelot's hand for a second before he let go. _Please don't let this all be a trick_.

* * *

"Gaius!"

The elderly physician turned to see Gwen come running up to him, a few stray black curls dancing around her anxious face as she came to a stop before him.

"Is it true what they're saying about Lancelot?" She demanded anxiously, her brown eyes beseeching Gaius for the truth. He glanced over at carefully, recalling how they had been devoid of that particular hopeful light for quite a while now; and feeling his own spirits rise a little at the sight of its return.

"Yes, it appears that he has returned from the dead." Gaius informed her cautiously.

Her shoulders slumped with relief and she drew closer to Gaius. "Where is he?"

"I last saw him in my chamber." Gaius told her, not entirely caught off guard when she started to run past him before he'd even finished his sentence.

"Gwen." He called out, drawing the handmaiden's attention back to him.

"Arthur and I cannot tell for certain whether or not he really has returned to us."

Her face fell. "You mean, you think Morgana has something to do with this?"

Gaius shook his head. "It is hard to say. Just...be careful my dear; make sure you exercise a certain amount of caution when you are around him."

She sent Gaius a smile that didn't reassure him in the slightest. "Don't worry Gaius,  
I will." With that she took off towards the physician's chambers as Gaius watched her go with a worried glance.

* * *

Merlin took a sip of the warm tea and gave a sigh of relief as he felt the warmth seep into his very bones. "Mm, how'd you learn to make this?" He called over his shoulder as the knight poured his own cup.

"The Mudhabi people taught me when I was traveling with them." Lancelot told him gathering his cup and moving to sit down beside him on the bench to enjoy the warm benefits of the fire as well. "It's supposed to be good for warming up those suffering from a chill. Do you like it?"

Merlin nodded his agreement furiously. "It's amazing, thank-you."

Lancelot smiled, patting Merlin's knee. "Not at all my friend."

They both took another sip from their tea, Merlin moaning slightly as he felt another surge of warmth roll through him.

"So how has life in Camelot been?" Lancelot asked curiously, glancing at Merlin over his tea.

"It's been…different." Merlin told him. "Definitely not the same without you; in fact," Merlin laughed slightly, "Arthur seems to somehow managed to become an even greater prat that he was before—"

Merlin was cut off as the door to the physician's chambers swung open, revealing a disheveled and anxious Gwen, scanning the room until her eyes landed on the two figures huddled near the fire.

"Lancelot." She breathed out, crossing the room towards him. "Is it really you?"

"Guinevere." Lancelot replied looking surprised for a moment before smiling gently at her. "Yes, it's really me."

Merlin glanced between the two of them, standing up awkwardly and making his way up to his room to try and let them have a little bit of privacy. He was already in his room before he realized what the implications of Lancelot returning could have an Arthur and Gwen's relationship; and cursed himself inwardly for leaving them alone in the same room together.

Outside of where Merlin was currently banging his head against the wall in frustration, Gwen was staring at Lancelot like she expected him to disappear at any moment. Just fade away back into the nothingness from whence he came.

"I thought—we all thought that you were lost to us." Gwen told him. "You have no idea what a relief it is to see your face again."

Lancelot smiled comfortingly back at her. "I would wager that your relief at seeing me could match mine at seeing you again." He moved a hand to brush back a stray hair behind her ear. "I've missed you, Guinevere."

As his fingers brushed over her skin, a flash images and sounds passed over his mind's eye.

_A castle, holding hands through the iron wrought bars as they formulated a plan to escape that terrible place._  
_**"Live for me, or everything I am has been for nothing."**_

Lancelot stumbled back slightly, disorientated as Gwen rushed over to grab him and prevent him from falling over. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, merely tired my lady." Lancelot assured her, even as the memory of her skin brushing his fingertips buzzed just beneath his skin.

She nodded and drew back hesitantly. "Well, I suppose I should let you rest up for the feast tonight."

"Thank-you my lady." Lancelot told her.

She gave him another smile before turning and heading towards the door, giving one last glance over her shoulder before she departed.

* * *

Arthur watched Lancelot carefully as he finished telling Gwaine and Percival about his journey back from the land of the dead. His uncle was sitting to his left; casually digging into his meal but Arthur noted that his eyes also flickered over to Lancelot occasionally. To his right sat Gwen, her brown eyes locked on Lancelot as though the minute she glanced over to grab the smallest morsel, he would vanish.

He also noted disgruntledly that his former knight's eyes flicked over to where Merlin was standing quite a fair deal more than they should have. His own manservant was oblivious to the gaze as he poured Arthur another glass of wine, eyeing the barely touched food on Arthur's plate quizzically.

"Are you feeling alright My Lord?" Merlin murmured quietly.

Arthur waved him away. "Yes. Fine thank-you Merlin."

Merlin paused for a moment more before retreating from Arthur's side back to his corner of the room where Arthur noticed Lancelot's eye flickered over to _again_.

"And then I made my way North." Lancelot finished, his eyes shifting back to the other knights.

"You made your way home." Arthur assured him, trying to submerge his suspicions back below the surface and raising his goblet to toast him.

Lancelot raised his own goblet and smiled back at Arthur.

"I must say, for all that I owe the Mudhabi people their company pales in comparison to yours, my friends."

"Course'," Gwaine called out cheerfully and more than slightly drunkenly, "There's no one that compares to us 'n all of Albion." He threw back his glass of wine and turned to Merlin. "Merls," He whined pitifully, "be a mate and fill up my cup?"

"I think that you've had enough, Sir Gwaine." Merlin told him, ignoring the pet name.

Percival took the cup out of Gwaine's hands with a smile, while Gwaine pouted in a very undignified manner.

Arthur allowed himself a small smile before settling his gaze back on Lancelot, though some of the tension had been alleviated from his shoulders.

"Really Lancelot, we can't thank you enough for what you on the isle of blessed; it'll be remembered always."

Lancelot smiled. "I have all the thanks I need sitting here around me, my King." He rose from his chair and raised his goblet up high. "I propose a toast, to the people I hold most dear." His eyes flickered over to Merlin who Arthur noticed was grinning like the complete idiot that he was, his eyes crinkling with the force of the smile.

"To Camelot."

The others joined him in a roaring chorus of "To Camelot" while Arthur merely raised his glass and murmured a moment too late, almost to himself, "To Camelot," struggling to hold down the images of a long forgotten dream that threatened to rise to the surface once more.

* * *

Merlin burst through his room in a ball of uncontainable excitement, Lancelot following carefully and amusedly behind. "You can have my bed." Merlin told him, making way over to straighten the bed sheets.

Lancelot frowned and shook his head. "No, I couldn't."

Merlin glanced up and shook his own head emphatically. "Really, after all you've been through, it's the least I can do." He tried to move past him to grab some blankets but Lancelot stopped him by resting a hand on his arm gently.

"Then where will you sleep?" He asked, concern heavily lacing his tone.

Merlin flushed slightly and shrugged, slightly embarrassed by the amount of concern in Lancelot's voice and the words about to fall out of his mouth. "While you were gone, I slept in Arthur's antechamber for a bit; I can always go back there—"

"I don't want to kick you out." Lancelot told him, his frown growing deeper.

Merlin shook his head. "Really, it's no trouble."

Lancelot paused for a moment. "We could always share the bed."

Merlin nearly fell over and he outright laughed. "That tiny thing? We'd have no room to even sneeze. And that," He shook his head again, "is no way to treat a hero."

Lancelot looked at him for a moment more before laughing as well, finally removing his hand from Merlin's arm. "Yes, you're right, it wouldn't be all that comfortable, would it?"

Merlin smiled. "No; I'll see you in the morning." He walked past Lancelot to the door.

"Merlin." Lancelot called, causing Merlin to pause at the door.

His brown eyes stared deep into Merlin's blue ones, his whole body standing stiff as though unsure how to convey the emotion it was currently experiencing.

"I've really missed you." He told him, a strong conviction overlaying the quiet words.  
Merlin felt his throat go dry for a moment before he nodded and turned away.

"I've missed you too." He mumbled before making his way out of the room and into Gaius's chambers. He leaned against the door for a moment to catch his breath before making his way down the stairs to where Gaius's was watching him carefully.

"Something the matter Merlin?" Gaius asked concernedly.

Merlin paused for a moment, glancing over at Gaius before making his way over to the bench and sat down beside him

"I…I want to believe that everything's all right and that Lancelot really has come back but—" He broke off, staring at his hands, scared that if he voiced his fears that would make them true.

"But?" Gaius prodded gently.

Merlin glanced over at him, desperation and fatigue seeping onto his features as well as guilt. "Just…I don't remember him being quite so…"

"So what?"

Merlin glanced back at his hands. "Tactile."

Gaius frowned. "What do you mean?"

Merlin rubbed a hand over his face. "He just…before the…the Dorocha, the only time that Lancelot would hug me or give me any sign of affection other than an awkward pat was when I was…upset."

Gaius nodded; recalling all too well those nights after the first couple of sorcerers had been executed.

Merlin shook his head slightly. "And when I saw him in the armory I was upset and everything…but after I had calmed down he…brushed his knuckles across my cheek." Gaius's eyebrow twitched slightly and after that it all seemed to flow out from Merlin in a rush. "And then when we were sitting in here drinking some tea he made he kept putting his hand on my knee, and then in my room he put his hand on my arm and looked at me like—" He broke off and then after a moment shook his head with a short laugh. "You know what, forget it, it sounds…completely ridiculous, I'm sorry I don't know why I told you—"

"Merlin." Gaius murmured quietly, cutting off the boy whom he considered his son's rant. "Tell me."

Merlin glanced over at Gaius, taking strength from his calm, levelheaded gaze before continuing. "He looked at me like the way that Freya used to look at me." He took a deep breath. "Lancelot…Lancelot wouldn't look at anyone other than Gwen like that."

Gaius was quiet for a moment, absorbing this information. "Have you considered that perhaps he had feelings for you before he entered the veil and his brush with depth has encouraged him to act on these feelings?"

Merlin shook his head vehemently. "Lancelot…Lancelot doesn't—he didn't—"

"The same way that you didn't and don't have feelings for Arthur?" Gaius questioned quietly.

Merlin's head turned towards him so fast that the elderly physician was worried it might snap.

"I never told you that." He told him, panic flaring within his blue eyes.

Gaius sighed and patted Merlin's shoulder gently. "You didn't have to my boy."

Merlin stared wide-eyed at him for a moment more before groaning and burying his head in his hands. "Is it that obvious?"  
Gaius took pity on the poor boy beside him and shook his head. "Not to Arthur."

Some of the worry flew from Merlin's shoulders and he turned to face Gaius, clearing his throat slightly. "You don't think I'm—" He cleared his suddenly inexplicably dry throat again, glimmering tears threatening to fall from his eyes, "strange, or unnatural, or anything do you? I mean," he laughed bitterly, "besides being a sorcerer."

"Oh Merlin." Gaius told him, gathering the boy, or rather the young man, in his arms. "Of course I don't think that; you'll always be my boy, and nothing that you could say or do will ever change that." He pulled back and looked Merlin in the eye. "If Lancelot's actions make you uncomfortable, I could always talk to—"

"No." Merlin shook his head. "It's fine, I just…think we should keep an eye on him."

Gaius nodded, though he kept his gaze firm. "Alright, but you must come and talk to me should something else happen."

Merlin nodded and then gave Gaius a tentative smile. "Don't worry Gaius, I will."

His calm smile, still tainted by the naivety of youth, did as much to alleviate Gaius's worries as Gwen's had.

Gaius drew Merlin back into another hug and Merlin tightened his grip; reveling in the love encircling him for just a moment. Just long enough to try and forget the hovering revenant up the stairs and beyond his door.

* * *

Gwen wandered through the hallways with a basket of washing that she planned on doing first thing the next morning, her mind lost in a daze that had made all of her other work nearly impossible.

The idea that Lancelot, who they had thought lost to them forever, was only a floor below her sleeping in Gaius's chambers seemed positively lucrative. Yet it was the truth. Gwen couldn't stop herself from thinking that it was all going to turn out to be an incredibly lucid dream; that she would wake up any moment now in her own bed, where Lancelot lived only in her memories.

"Gwen!" A voice called from down the hallway and she turned to face Sarah, one of the kitchen girls running towards her, her nut-brown hair flying out behind her.

She came to a stop only a few inches away from Gwen, huffing and gasping slightly for breath. "The King…requests your presence in his chambers."

* * *

Arthur sat in his chambers, starring into the flames aimlessly as he nursed a cup a wine that was far too sweet for the bitter thoughts stirring through his mind.

A knock at the door drew him away from those insidious whispers and he sighed.

"Come in." He called, glancing over as Gwen entered the room.

"You wanted to see me?" She asked, painfully aware of the awkward atmosphere surrounding them. They hadn't spoken one on one since Lancelot's funeral.

Arthur cleared his throat and stood. "Yes. I was wondering what you thought about Lancelot."

Gwen's face screwed up in slight confusion. "Lancelot?"

Arthur nodded. "Do you believe it to be him?"

Gwen hesitated. "It certainly looks like him."

Arthur watched her carefully. "But you can't be certain?"

Gwen paused again before offering him a wry smile. "Can any of us be certain of anything anymore?"

Arthur's own face now screwed up in confusion. "What do you mean by that?"

She trapped his light blue eyes with her own dark brown ones. "All I know is that a short time ago I never would have imagined the smiling young woman that was my master and friend would be the very same witch that has made it her mission to destroy Camelot. In the very same way that I never thought that I would see Lancelot again." She took a deep breath to steady herself; fully aware of what she had to say. "And in the same way that I never expected to be standing across from you as though we were nothing more than strangers."

Arthur's eyes widened in surprise "Guinevere—"

"Forgive me My Lord, but it had to be said." She told him, her eyes full of the fierce determination that he had been so certain would make her a wonderful Queen. "You and I have not probably spoken since Lancelot's passing." She paused for a moment before speaking in a slightly softer tone. "And I am no longer certain of where your heart truly lies."

"Wha—but—my heart lies with you Guinevere." Arthur insisted, stepping closer to her and gazing at her fondly. "You would make a truly exceptional Queen.

She sent him a steady, calculating look and he found himself flinching slightly under her gaze. "The qualities that I posses that would make me an exceptional Queen have no bearing on our conversation, Arthur."

She shook her head. "I am not asking whether or not you think I would be an exceptional Queen; I asking whether or not you love me enough to make me an exceptional lover."

"Of course I love you." Arthur protested, feeling slightly overwhelmed, this was not how he had pictured their conversation going.

She crossed her arms. "Why?"

He looked at her, absolutely flummoxed. "Why?"

She nodded. "Why do you love me?"

He stared at her uselessly for a few minutes before straightening and trying to cover up the awkward pause with even more awkward blustering. "Well, uh, I love you because you're smart, determined, and…exceptionally beautiful?"

She raised her eyebrow. "Are you asking or telling me?"

Arthur threw up his hands in frustration. "Well, what do you want me to say Gwen?"

"Something more than a few of my good qualities at the least." Gwen told him, shaking her head.

There was a moment of silence between them with Arthur steadily avoiding her piercing gaze in favor of staring at the fire.

Gwen sighed and uncrossed her arms.

"Arthur, what would you do if I told you that on my way here I had seen Merlin leaning over one of the terraces trying to recover something that he had dropped?"

Arthur glanced up right away. "Which terrace?"

Gwen shoved down the smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. "The one on the third floor."

Panic flared with Arthur's eyes, rightly so, Gwen thought to herself, given Merlin's unfortunate reputation of being the clumsiest person in all of Albion. "Did you?"

She shook her head. "No, but what would you do if I had?"

Relief flowed through Arthur's form before he straightened up and sent her a confused look. "I don't see what Merlin's clumsiness has do with this."

Gwen smiled softly. "Arthur, I think you and I both know just how much Merlin has to do with this."

Arthur stiffened at the implications behind her tone and shook his head defiantly, coming closer to Gwen. "_Mer_lin is my manservant and nothing more." He brushed a pale hand against her dark cheek. "_You_ are who I love."

Gwen watched him for a moment before allowing fake relief to flood her features.

"Oh, good, I was so worried you be upset."

Arthur frowned, his head spinning slightly from all these dizzying changes of emotion. Women were very complicated. "Upset?"

She nodded, a slight laugh echoing her words. "You see, I thought you had feelings for Merlin; what with how you acted after the Dorocha. You know, barely letting him leave your side and all. And I was so worried you would be devastated when you found out."

Arthur frowned, something cold and hard growing in the pit of his stomach. "Found out what?"

Gwen waved her hand dismissively, taking care that Arthur didn't notice the way that her eyes were following him carefully. "Oh, a few nights ago I caught Merlin and one of the knights together." She laughed as though poking fun of herself for entertaining such a notion. "I was terribly afraid that your heart would be broken once you knew."

Arthur couldn't find it in himself to reply, blood pounding loudly in his ears and blocking out any other sound that might reach them. His stomach felt hard and cold while a fire raged within his chest. In his mind's eye he could see Merlin, pressed up against an alcove, his head thrown back in pleasure as a faceless knight held him there. His treasonous hands traveling all over Merlin's body as he pulled Merlin into another deep kiss.

His feet were moving towards the door before he could stop them.

"Arthur?" Gwen's voice called from far away. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to make sure that this doesn't go on any longer." Arthur told her, anger and something else making his voice shake slightly despite its thunderous tone. "Under no uncertain terms will I allow one of my knights to be in a relationship with—with a servant."

"Wasn't their King dead set on marrying a servant only a moment ago?" Gwen asked quietly.

Arthur's hand tightened on the door handle. "That's a different matter. I am the King."

"So you plan to have a certain standard for yourself and a different one for everyone else?" Gwen watched him carefully. "Is that really the kind of King you want to be?"

Arthur knew that she was right; he had stopped seeing the differences between people based on their social standing a long time ago. And he didn't want to rule with such crooked standards in place; he wanted to be a fair and just King, the kind of King that Merlin and Gwen had such great belief that he would become.

But it didn't stop the voice from whispering so insidiously in his mind all the different ways that he could use his power to ensure that perfidious knight's hands never went near Merlin's pale, slender body every again.

He wondered who it had been; Gwaine probably, that man would hit on anything that moved. He could now see Merlin pressed up against that stone wall with Gwaine's hands roving over him like they probably had over countless others; making Merlin just another notch in his bedpost.

The thought sent a fresh wave of heat searing through his chest and he clutched the door handle even tighter.

When no answer came from Arthur's turned back, Gwen sighed and muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like: "Boys."

"I lied."

He spun around to face her immediately. "What?"

She shrugged. "I lied. I didn't catch Merlin with anyone, knight or otherwise."

Relief swept through him so fast that he almost fell over, before fresh anger marred with confusion steadied his feet once again. "Then why did you say you had?"

She smiled sadly at him. "I wanted to see how you would react; tell me, is it really that hard to admit your feelings for him?"

"For the last time," Arthur ground out, "I do not have feelings for Merlin."

"Arthur." She said, shaking her head. "Yes, you do."

Arthur shook his own head in a desperate attempt to stave off the truth. "No—I"  
He ran a hand over his face and leaned against the door. "I don't."

Gwen nearly tore her hair out in frustration. "Whether platonic of romantic, even a blind man could see that you care infinitely more for Merlin than you do for me." She straightened herself up, holding her head high. "And I won't be second best, whether you realize it or not."

Arthur stared at her, fatigue seeping its way onto his face. "So what do you plan to do Guinevere?"

"You are a good man Arthur, and you are a great King. You shall always be my King." She took a deep breath, steeling herself once again. "But I'm afraid I can no longer see myself as either your lover or your wife."

Arthur watched her for a moment before pushing himself off the door and making his way back to his wine. "I'm sorry that you feel that way Guinevere."

She gave him another sad smile. "As am I."

He took a long pull from his cup before setting it back down on the table.

"Arthur." She murmured softly, moving over and placing a gentle hand on his arm.

"Yes Gwen?" Arthur replied tiredly.

She fixed him with one of her stern looks. "Tell Merlin how you feel about him."

Arthur felt a groan rising within his chest. "Gwen—"

"Tell him." She insisted. "Or someone else will come and steal him away."

The sound of the door opening distracted Arthur from the well of emotions rising up in response to her words as Agravaine strode in, causing Gwen to stiffen immediately.

"My Lord—" He began before cutting himself sharply off once he caught sight of Gwen and Arthur standing so close together. "I apologize for the interruption."

Arthur waved his hand dismissively. "No trouble Uncle, our conversation was just ending anyway."

Gwen quickly moved away from him, curtsying to them both before scurrying from the room; leaving Arthur's mind stuck on matters of the heart while his Uncle prattled on about matters of the state.

* * *

Agravaine got off his horse and strode towards the clearing, his eyes flickering around uncertainly for any sign of danger before he came face to face with the cloaked figure of Lady Morgana.

"I trust our plan is going well?" She asked demurely.

Agravaine nodded, a careful smile breaking across his face. "Arthur and the others believe Lancelot to be the real thing; though they do have some suspicions."

"And Merlin?" Morgana inquired.

Agravaine grinned. "He appears absolutely taken in by him."

Morgana grinned wickedly. "Excellent."

Agravaine nodded though his smile faltered slightly. "Though I fear Lancelot's return has pushed the handmaiden and Arthur together again."

Morgana scoffed. "Arthur always was a jealous child, couldn't stand someone other than him playing with his toys." The grin grew back onto her face. "Luckily, I planned for such a thing. She reached into her cloak and withdrew a silver triskele pendant, murmuring sacred words from the old religion.

Her eyes glowed a condemned golden as the pendant in her hand glowed ominously as well. She smirked at her creation before holding it out for Agravaine to take.

"I think it's time to rekindle some old feelings, don't you?" Her smirk grew wider as her eyes grew even more hard and cold. "Lancelot _was_ Gwen's first love after all."

* * *

Lancelot tossed and turned on Merlin's bed, his dreams caught up in an endless slideshow of images.

_Saving a pale, lanky boy with brilliant blue eyes from a winged monstrosity, and then being saved by that same lanky boy. Meeting a blonde hair young man and an old physician as well as a girl with raven colored hair and caramel skin, with deep brown eyes that seemed to pull him in. _

_He saw the blue eyed youth smile happily back at him while the blonde haired man looked back at him like he could see something great within him that he never had. He saw deep brown eyes and an earnest face look back at him like he was the single most wonderful thing that they had ever seen. And he found himself thinking the same about them. _

_He saw that same youth without his playful smile, weighed down by a destiny that he could never escape; chaining him to the blonde without any hope of escape, whether he would have wanted to or not. Those blue eyes staring into him, devoid of hope and drowned out by crystalline tears. He saw that blonde man standing tall in front of a swarm of bandits, leading his faithful knights with his infamous battle cry._

"_**For the love of Camelot!"**_

_The scene switched towards those weighted blue eyes._

"_For __**Arthur**__."_

_And then those impossibly lovely brown ones._

"_For __**you**__."  
_

He sat up in Merlin's bed, breathing heavily and trying to force down the wretched memories before they could worm their way further into him.

* * *

The King of Camelot himself tossed and turned that night, lost in a dream that clung to him the next morning no matter how hard he tried to shake it off.

_He was wandering around in the darkness, searching for Merlin; hollering at the top of his lungs for his useless excuse for a manservant. But Merlin continued to elude him, no matter how many times he called. _

_Panic and frustration clawing at his lungs, he spun around his place and his eyes finally landed on the elusive manservant, his pale skin giving off an almost ethereal glow in the darkness.  
_

_**Merlin.**__  
_

_His manservant glanced up at the sound of his name tearing itself away from Arthur's lips, his blue eyes dull and glassy. They seemed to stare right through him to the darkness that lay all around them. _

_Arthur ran towards him, desperately calling out for him, as black hands began to reach out from the darkness and cling to Merlin; tugging at his arms and head as they tried to force him back towards them.  
_

_As Arthur got closer he could make out the shadowy figure of a head leering towards Merlin, its spectral nose brushing against Merlin's pale neck as its lips traversed it, increasing the anger boiling in Arthur's blood exponentially as they entrapped Merlin's plum lips; tainting the pale manservant with their terrible blackness.  
_

_Arthur reached forward to drag Merlin away, only to have the hands drag him backwards and out of his reach, obscuring him in darkness and leaving Arthur all alone.  
_

He shot up in bed, his hand still outstretched and a mangled cry dying on his lips. It took several deep breaths and an indefinite amount of time for Arthur to fall back on his mattress, his heart still pounding loudly in his ears. Sleep still eluded him though, chased away by Gwen's words as they repeated endlessly in his mind._  
_

_**Tell him. Or someone else will come and steal him away.**_


	2. And the walls kept tumbling down

Here we go, chapter 2!  
**I do not own Merlin or any of the characters, they are owned by the BBC.  
Warnings: Dub-con(mind control), swearing.**

* * *

Arthur lay in bed for a while the next morning, his thoughts tumbling over one another as he struggled to come to terms with Gwen's words from the night before. But no matter how he twisted it, he couldn't seem to reach the same explanation that she had; that he was in love with his idiotic manservant.

He was staring at the canopy surrounding his bed in irritation, cursing it for not revealing the answer to him when the door opened and Merlin stumbled in with breakfast. His manservant set the meal on the table, yawning in a way that was not at all cute or endearing and made his way over to the curtains, five steps from flinging them open when Arthur's voice stopped him  
"Do you think for once you might be able to come up with some other way to wake me that doesn't involve plodding around my room like an elephant?"

His manservant turned to face him with a, definitely not charming, grin.

"I'm afraid not, Sire. It would take a herd of real elephants otherwise."  
Arthur grumbled something incoherent under his breath while Merlin flung open the curtains and terrible sunlight pierced Arthur's eyes. Arthur gave out a groan while Merlin moved over to the closet and gathered his clothes, humming happily to himself under his breath. Arthur glanced over at him grumpily. "You're awful cheerful this morning."  
"I'm cheerful every morning. "Merlin replied, laying his clothes out on the foot of his bed. "Any chance you're going to get out of bed or can I help myself to your breakfast, My Lord?"

Arthur hoisted himself out of bed and shuffled over to the table, sinking down in the chair and digging ravenously into his food. Merlin smirked slightly before moving to his side and pouring him a cup of water. Arthur watched him carefully, still unable to chase out the nagging doubt that hidden under Merlin's ubiquitous neckerchief were marks left by a treasonous knight. Merlin noticed his gaze and raised her eyebrow slightly. "Is there something on my face?"  
Arthur looked back down at his food. "I'm simply marveling at how ugly you are this morning."  
"As long as I still look better than you do Sire, I have no complaints." Merlin returned evenly, setting down the cup and picking up Arthur's bedclothes.

Arthur snorted in disbelief at the notion before returning to his meal. "How's Lancelot?"

Merlin hesitated for a moment before closing Arthur's closet. "I don't know, I haven't seen him this morning. I let him have my room last night."  
Arthur relaxed slightly despite himself upon hearing that, though for the life of him couldn't fathom why.  
"Will you be letting him join the knight's practice today?" Merlin called over as he straightened Arthur's bed.  
Arthur took another bite out of breakfast before responding. "I was planning to."  
Merlin nodded, giving the pillows one last plump before making his way over to the door. "Right, I'll go tell him then, shall I?"

Arthur let out a spluttering, "Merlin!" drawing said youth to a stop.  
"Yes, Sire?" He asked, slight confusion marring his face.  
Arthur made a useless sort of gesture at himself. "First you have to get me dressed and ready for the practice."

Merlin raised his eyebrow slightly. "By the time I do that it'll be time for the knight's practice, and Lancelot will have no time to get ready." He turned back to the door, opening it slightly. "I'll just go tell him about it while you finish breakfast."  
"Merlin." Arthur called, standing up and trying to emanate as much Kingly-authority as he could manage. Merlin merely raised his eyebrow at him. "Yes, sire?"  
"You are my servant, you attend to me first." He told him firmly. "Tell one of the guards to send the message to Lancelot."

Merlin gave a frustrated sigh and let go of the door handle, turning back to face him.  
"Arthur—" He began.  
"Merlin." Arthur countered. "I am your King."  
"And you are also my friend." Merlin told him firmly. "And I am telling you as your friend that I can handle myself around Lancelot, without your intervention."  
"This has nothing to do with Lancelot." Arthur told him firmly.  
"It has everything to do with Lancelot!" Merlin snapped back, anger sparking to life in his blue eyes. "You think that the minute you let me out of your sight I'm going to be completely taken in by him or something."

Arthur sighed. "Oh stop being so dramatic Merlin, you know that's not true."  
"Then what's the problem with me going and giving Lancelot the message?" Merlin argued.  
"Nothing." Arthur snapped back, realizing all too late that it had been what Merlin was waiting for.

A triumphant look spread across Merlin's face and he flew out the door and down the hall to Gaius's chambers before Arthur could call him back.

Arthur slammed his fist down on the table and sank back down into his chair, watching the door for a moment before tearing savagely into his breakfast like a wounded animal.

* * *

Lancelot wandered through the halls, rubbing his fingers over the silver triskele through the purple cloth it was wrapped in absentmindedly. Agravaine had told him that the Lady Morgana wished for him to place the necklace around the handmaiden Gwen's neck, that it was enchanted and would make her fall in love with him. That this task was necessary if they wanted to isolate Arthur, which was what the Lady Morgana wanted, and Lancelot existed only to serve her.

He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to chase away the revenants of his memories that were endeavoring to slide so seamlessly past his defenses and distract him from his duty for the Lady Morgana; like the person he used to be was trying to break through the iron bars that they were locked behind. He was so focused on trying to shake away the feeling that he almost walked straight into the person that he was looking for.

"Lancelot." Gwen cried in pleasant surprise. "What are you doing here?"  
He looked down at her and smiled gently. "I was looking for you, my lady."  
She blushed slightly and hefted the bundle of laundry in her arms. "I'm not a lady, Lancelot."  
"You are a Lady in every way that counts, my Lady." Lancelot assured her, admiring the way the deep blush sat on her cheeks. He held out the wrapped pendant with another smile. "I have something for you."  
She glanced up at him, her impossibly lovely brown eyes meeting his. "Really? What—"

It was as though those eyes had opened a floodgate in his mind. Images spilled through and drowned out the carefully thought out plan instilled into him by Lady Morgana. _He saw himself protecting this woman, leading her away from danger, far away from everything. He couldn't endanger her so, by giving her this necklace. But the Lady Morgana had ordered him to give her the necklace; and he lived to serve the Lady Morgana.  
_

Didn't he?

He backed away from Gwen, closing his fingers around the pendant and raising a hand to his temple as he struggled against the jumbled pieces of memory free-floating in his mind. From far away he could hear her voice calling to him, asking if he was all right.

What…what were his orders again?

He had been told to draw Arthur's manservant, Merlin, away from Arthur. To isolate him so that the King would have no choice to lean on the only other support he could find: his Uncle Agravaine. And…and he had been told to give someone this pendent…so that they would fall in love with him and out of love with Arthur…that…that had to be…Merlin…right?

He pushed past the worried Gwen with a mumbled apology and made his way towards the physician's chambers in a daze; missing the way that Gwen's eyes narrowed slightly and suspicion began to crawl all over her hope.

Once he arrived, he pushed open the door to meet Merlin about to leave.

"Oh." Merlin gave him a grin, though Lancelot detected some residual anger clinging to his features. "I was looking for you, Arthur says you're welcome to come to the knight's practice today if you're up to it."  
"I was looking for you as well." Lancelot told him, closing the door carefully behind him. Merlin gave him a quizzical glance. "Really?"  
Lancelot nodded. "I have a gift for you." He scratched his neck awkwardly. "I apologize, with all the commotion yesterday I forgot to give it to you."

"What is it?" Merlin asked curiously.  
Lancelot took out the purple cloth and handed it to him. Merlin sent him an odd glance and unwrapped it to reveal the silver triskele.  
"It's beautiful." He said, running his thumb over the necklace carefully. "But…isn't this meant more for a women?"  
Lancelot shook his head. "The Mudhabi people all wore one around their neck, Men, Women and children alike. They gave it to me before I left. But if you don't like it—"

"Of course I like it." Merlin rushed to say, sending Lancelot a comforting smile. He put the necklace over his head and admired the way it looked against his blue tunic.  
"It suits you." Lancelot told him, smiling kindly.  
Merlin smiled back. "Thank-you." He laughed. "I'll have to keep it under my tunic whenever Arthur's around though, he calls me a girl far too often already."  
"You care about him a great deal." Lancelot observed.  
Merlin shrugged. "I have to, it's my job to look after him."

"Does your job also require that you fall in love with him?"

Merlin's head snapped up to Lancelot so fast that the shade wondered if it might snap, a deep blush accenting his pale cheekbones perfectly. "I—I'm not in love with Arthur, that's ridiculous—"  
"Merlin." Lancelot cut in gently.  
Merlin backed away slightly, shaking his head. "I'm not." He insisted. "Now, if you'll excuse me I have to go put King Prat-a-lot into his armour."

Lancelot's hand shot out and caught Merlin, spinning to face him so that he could lean forward and press his lips against his. Merlin gave a muffled cry of protest and shock, raising his hands to shove Lancelot away. But with a glow from the pendant around his neck those arms wrapped around Lancelot's neck and pulled him closer. Merlin relaxed into the kiss, letting Lancelot maneuver him against the back wall and deepen it. He trailed kisses down Merlin's neck before he removed the neckerchief so that he could do something with his mouth to the crook of Merlin's neck that made his knees go weak. He pulled back from his neck and gave Merlin one final, deep kiss on his lips before backing away from the breathless Manservant.

"I know," Lancelot began, slightly breathless, "that in your heart, Arthur will always be first. I just…I would like you to consider the possibility of the two of us."  
"What do you mean?" Merlin breathed, his heart fluttering desperately.  
Lancelot caressed Merlin's cheek, drawing a slight shiver out of the slender man.  
"I want you to consider that I can be just as good for you as he could."  
Merlin glanced up at him, his blue eyes impossibly wide and bright. "Lancelot…"

"You don't have to decide right now." Lancelot told him gently. "Take as much time as you need." He leaned forward again and Merlin waited for him to brush their lips together again, yearned for it even. But Lancelot merely laid a chaste kiss on the side of his cheek and walked back towards Merlin's room. "I'll see you at the training session, Merlin."

Merlin watched him go before leaning against the wall, trying to gather up his frazzled nerves in order to walk upstairs and fit Arthur into his armor, his heart beating double time in his chest and his mind bathed in an intoxicating fog.

* * *

Gwaine wandered down the halls towards the training ground, munching happily on an apple that he may or may not have absconded from the palace kitchen when the cook wasn't looking. He was so focused on the crisp taste of the apple swimming over his taste buds and the shining golden sunshine lighting up the day outside the palace windows, that he walked right into a dazed Merlin; sending the Manservant tripping over his own feet and nearly careening towards the floor.

Gwaine's hand shot out and caught Merlin by his forearm, saving him a tumble towards the cold stone floor and a no doubt not insignificant head injury.

"Whoa, Merlin, my friend, you alright?" He asked, laughing slightly at the dazed expression on Merlin's face. "Better watch where you're going next time. Don't want to walk into Lord Agravaine."  
"I could take him." Merlin mumbled, his eyes not focusing quite yet.  
Gwaine's laughter stopped and concern lit up his features.  
"Yes, but you can't Merlin, my friend, remember? That's the quickest way to get sent straight to the pyre, and I must say I prefer you as you are; uncooked."

Merlin hummed in agreement and nodded, encouraging Gwaine to peer closer at him in case he really had managed to hit his head. Before he met Merlin, he had thought such a feat was not possible, but now he knew (oh how he knew) better.

His eyebrows flew up in shock when he located the true cause of Merlin's light-headedness, and his mouth fell open wide enough to swallow a whole chicken.

"Merlin, where did you get that you sly dog?" He asked, pointing to the bright red mark in the crook of Merlin's neck. _Don't tell me Princess finally made a move?_

Merlin flushed and raised one of his hands up to cover the mark. "Uh…Lancelot gave it to me."  
Gwaine nearly fell over.  
"Lancelot?" He cried incredulously. "Our own stick-up-his-arse, head-over-heels-for-Gwen-Lancelot? You're joking."  
Merlin flinched at the mention of Gwen's name and Gwaine felt his stomach plummet. Ok, definitely not joking. _Fuck._

"Oh gods you're serious." Gwaine nearly groaned, fighting the urge to bang his head against the nearest hard surface. Merlin squirmed uncomfortably, averting his gaze from Gwaine's, the reality of the situation beginning to seep through his haze.

Not one for much hard thinking, Gwaine realized that if this dragged on for any longer, the two of them were going to be late for practice. Which wouldn't bode well for either of them, love-life crises notwithstanding.

"C'mon," He said, reaching out towards Merlin, "Where's your neckerchief?"  
Merlin fumbled for a moment before remembering that the blue cloth was in his left hand. He handed over to Gwaine, who took it and tied it around Merlin's neck once more, before giving him a hearty slap on the back.

"Hurry up and get Princess ready for practice or he'll be in a foul mood, and then we'll all be in trouble."  
Merlin nodded, before taking off down the hall, head significantly clearer now.

Gwaine watched him for a moment before calling out. "Merlin?"  
The pale young boy turned young man looked back at him over his shoulder, blue eyes staring at his questioningly.  
Gwaine felt a million words burning at the tip of his tongue, but only two fell past his lips. "Take care."

Merlin sent him a small smile and a nod before continuing down the hall and out of his sight.

* * *

Arthur watched his knights carefully, evaluating their moves and the many ways that they could be caught off guard, and ever so often flickering his eyes over to where Merlin sat, polishing the same shield that he had been for the past half hour and watching Lancelot in a way that Arthur supposed he thought was furtive.

The knight in question was sparring with Gwaine, who was grinning at him like he was the one winning and not the other way around. They stopped when Lancelot managed to knock Gwaine's sword out of his hands, Gwaine just laughing good-naturedly. Lancelot laughed as well before glancing over at where Merlin sat and sending him a smile; Merlin flushed and scrubbed furiously at the shield and Arthur felt that same heat sear through his chest once again.

That complete idiot; he had warned him not to be taken in by him. He should have known when Merlin had returned from speaking with Lancelot in a daze, his eyes distant and far away from Arthur as he struggled to get the King into his armor; a task that he was usually at least semi-competent at by now.

"Lancelot!" He called, drawing the knight's attention as well as Merlin's. He twirled his sword around and grinned, though to everyone else it looked more like he was barring his teeth, "Up for a match?"  
Lancelot nodded and bowed slightly. "Of course my King."  
Arthur frowned at him. "Just Arthur on the practice field, you know that Lancelot."  
"Of course, my Ki—Arthur, I apologize."  
Arthur shook his head. "No need for apologies, just get ready."

Lancelot drew his sword and the two began to circle each other, looking carefully for any sign of weakness. Finding none, they rushed towards each other, swords clanging furiously. The other knights had stilled their matches and were watching Arthur and Lancelot with thinly veiled interest. Arthur barely noticed their gazes, so fixated on defeating Lancelot and drawing Merlin's gaze away from the long lost knight and back where it usually was during practice: on him.

But no matter what move Arthur made, Lancelot parried.  
Frustration began to crawl underneath his skin as his blows were continually blocked. Steadying himself, Arthur sent a barrage of blows at Lancelot.  
Only to have _those_ evenly met as well.  
He drew back for a moment, trying to both lure Lancelot into a false sense of security and catch his breath. When he saw Lancelot's eyes flicker over to where Merlin was sitting and away from the battle, he took his chance.

He leapt forward, planning to knock Lancelot's sword from his hand, only to have his sword miss Lancelot's blade and instead sink into a weak spot in the chainmail.

Lancelot winced and sank to the ground, as Arthur stood there frozen for a moment in horror. He heard Merlin cry out behind him and forced himself to remove his sword from the, in all honesty, rather shallow wound on Lancelot's shoulder. In an instant Merlin was there, kneeling by Lancelot's side with worry pouring off of him in waves.

"Lancelot!" He cried, his hands flying over the knight's armor and undoing the ties of his armor urgently. "Are you alright?"  
The knight sent Merlin a smile that turned into a grimace as the manservant pulled his chainmail over his head. "Not to worry, I'm fine. I was just a bit distracted."  
Merlin flushed slightly at the implications of his words but guilt weighed down his actions as he glanced at the red rapidly spreading from Lancelot's shoulder.  
"We have to get your shirt off too." Merlin told him, reaching up to untie his neckerchief.

Lancelot smirked slightly and leant forward to whisper something in Merlin's ear that Arthur just barely managed to catch (by putting an _immense_ amount of strain on his ears). "Moving a little fast aren't we?"  
Merlin flushed a deep red and Arthur leant down and pushed him aside in order to tug Lancelot's shirt off himself. "My apologies Lancelot."

"It's no trouble Arthur." Lancelot assured him, though he winced slightly as Arthur managed to get his shirt off. Though it would be fair to say that Arthur had been a bit more rough than _strictly_ necessary. "Accidents happen to the best of us."  
Arthur grunted his agreement and Merlin leaned forward again, his neckerchief in his hand and his neck completely bare; revealing a thin black cord around his neck and a prominent love-bite in the crook of his neck.

Arthur stiffened, the heat coming back with a vengeance to race through his entire body as anger bubbled just beneath his skin. In his mind he saw them, Merlin's lips captured by Lancelot's before his knight moved his lips down the pale column of Merlin's neck to its crook before biting down. Merlin's head would be thrown back in pleasure and his knees would buckle as he lost himself in the situation and the man before him, Arthur the farthest thing from his mind.

Below him his manservant (_his_ manservant, the child inside Arthur insisted) finished wrapping his neckerchief around Lancelot's shoulder. "We should get you to Gaius." Merlin told him, pulling the knight up and starting to lead him towards the castle. Before he could think better of it, Arthur found himself reaching forward and tugging Merlin away from Lancelot by the back of his jacket.  
"Elyan take Lancelot to Gaius." Arthur ordered before turning to the rest of the knights, Merlin still firmly within his grip. "Practice is over for today, return to your other duties."

He turned away from Gwaine's open mouth before his objections could reach his ears and headed back towards the castle, still pulling Merlin along behind him. He made his way up through the castle and to his chambers, deaf to Merlin's protests and not letting go of his manservant until the two were in his chambers.

Merlin shoved himself away from Arthur, the anger radiating off of him enough to melt iron. "Let me go!" He stared back at Arthur, confusion and frustration marring his anger. "What is wrong with you?"  
Arthur clenched his fists at his sides and gazed back at Merlin in disbelief. "What's wrong with me? Who's the one who decided to _drape_ themselves all over Lancelot, when Gaius and I _both_ warned you not to?"  
Merlin flushed indignantly. "I didn't drape myself all over him, I was trying to take care of the wound on his shoulder that _**you**_inflicted on him."

"I'm not talking about the practice field." Arthur snapped back. "I'm talking about how you got that mark on your neck."

Merlin's face screwed up in confusion before sudden realization dawned on his face and he scrambled to cover his neck with one of his hands, a deep flush riding on his cheekbones.

"_That_ is none of your business." Merlin replied, his voice hard.  
Arthur advanced towards him, digging his fingernails into his palm to try and keep his anger in check, with limited success. "You are _my_ servant, that makes it my business. I will not allow you to threaten the safety of this kingdom over some stupid love affair."  
Merlin scoffed. "Oh yeah, because no one could possibly be interested in being with me unless they had some sort of nefarious plan to destroy Camelot."

"I didn't say that." Arthur snapped.

"Yeah, well, it was pretty heavily implied." Merlin shot back.

"Stop dragging your foolish pride into this." Arthur snipped, and hell if that wasn't the pot calling the kettle black. "This has nothing to do with you or your feelings for Lancelot. This is about ensuring the safety of Camelot and its citizens."

"Fine." Merlin replied evenly. "When Lancelot and I are together I'll make sure not to reveal anything that could jeopardize Camelot." He rolled his eyes and pushed past Arthur towards the door. "Somehow I don't think Camelot's secrets will be the first thing on my mind."

Arthur felt the anger boil up underneath his skin again as a fresh wave of images rose up and revealed exactly what would be on Merlin's mind. He reached forward and grabbed Merlin again, his grip so tight it was almost painful.  
"I will not take the risk." He told him lowly.  
Merlin's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, you will not take the risk?"

Arthur met his gaze evenly. "I forbid you to see Lancelot anymore, you are to terminate the relationship between the two of you."  
Merlin mouth dropped open, hurt defacing the shock on his face before anger took over again. "You have no right—"  
"I have every right." Arthur replied, painfully aware of how much like his father he sounded. "I am the King of Camelot and my word is law."

"You sound more like a Warlord than a King." Merlin told him, trying to shake his arm free only to have Arthur tighten his grip.

"You are to remain within either my chambers or the antechamber until we have ascertained that Lancelot is not a threat." Arthur told him, ignoring the painful pang in his heart that Merlin's words invoked.

"You can't keep me locked up in here like some sort of prisoner!" Merlin shouted, slipping out of Arthur's grip with a slight golden flare of his eyes, and making his way towards the door. "I've done nothing wrong, you have absolutely nothing to charge me with and no reason to keep me sealed away like—"

Arthur moved so fast he was almost a blur, backing Merlin against the door and holding his hands on either side of Merlin's head. His manservant's bright blue eyes glaring back at him furiously through his dark lashes. Blue eyes that for a short amount of time had been nothing but dull orbs, staring out of a frozen face into nothingness where Arthur could not follow. Merlin's pulse fluttered at the base of his neck and Arthur recalled the way that strong heart had stopped beating, simply given up and left Arthur there to pick up the shattered pieces of his own. He couldn't go through that again, no matter what; he couldn't lose Merlin again.

"You are my servant." Arthur told him. "That gives me as much jurisdiction as I need over you—"

"I'm not some piece of land! Arthur, listen to yourself." Merlin pleaded with him. "Listen to what you're saying."

"The only one who isn't listening to what I'm saying is you, Merlin." Arthur snarled.

Merlin stiffened, clenching his jaw and shaking his head.

"Then I quit."

Arthur felt as though someone had dealt him a blow to his stomach, all the air rushing out of him in a matter of seconds. "What do you mean you quit?"

"I mean, that if you insist on keeping me locked up in here like some delicate, vestigial, virgin I will be forced to quit." Merlin snapped, his voice shaking slightly.

Arthur clenched his fists against his wooden door as panic fluttered through his veins, his throat constricting painfully.

"And what will you do then? Run to Lancelot and get him to take you somewhere far away from here like the girl that you are?" Arthur mocked him.

Merlin met his gaze evenly. "Beats being locked up in a Prat's chambers like some sort of criminal."

Arthur's gaze landed on the bright red mark on Merlin's neck and felt his fingernails dig into his fleshy palms painfully. "So you'd rather be locked up by a knight instead of a King huh?" He sent Merlin a cruel smirk. "Tell me, is he really that good, or do you just think he is, being the _vestigial __**virgin**_ that you are?"

Merlin shoved Arthur back angrily. "Sod off. You're just jealous that I managed to get someone to come to bed with me before you could get Gwen into yours."

Arthur froze for a moment before grabbing Merlin by the chord around his neck, pulling him close enough for their noses to brush. "Don't speak about her like that."

He glanced down at the silver triskele dangling just below his fist. "Did he give you this too, you great girl?"  
"Whatever I am it seems to work for Lancelot." Merlin replied evenly.

The idea of Lancelot crawling over Merlin's body, tearing cries of pleasure from his coveted lips as his hands roamed wherever they liked; paying no mind to the fact that Merlin was Arthur's manservant, was his, and that he had no right to—

Arthur moved before his better judgment could catch up with him, slamming their lips together in a desperate attempt to erase any trace of Lancelot still lingering on them. Merlin stilled before giving himself into the kiss for a moment; a bond forged by destiny momentarily overcoming the power of the pendant around his neck.

But then the pendant let out an ominous golden glow unseen by the two men, and Merlin let out a muffled cry of surprise and shoved Arthur back, his fingers trembling slightly.

"What—why—why did you do that?" He mumbled through his fingers as they traced over his lips. "You—Gwen—oh gods." He moaned stumbling away from Arthur and reaching for the door handle.  
"Merlin." Arthur called out desperately. "Merlin!" But his manservant was already out the door and fleeing down the hall. "_Mer_lin!"

* * *

Lancelot was sitting in Gaius chamber's, struggling to shake off the memories before they could creep up and fog his mind, and process what Lord Agravaine had just stopped by to tell him.

So when Merlin came barreling in, tears running fearlessly down his cheeks as he hiccupped, Lancelot leapt up, wincing slightly as he pulled on the wound on his shoulder, and made his way over to him.

"Merlin," He murmured gently, allowing concern to perforate his tone, "Merlin, what's the matter?"

_He had come to return a vial to Gaius, when he heard sobbing coming from Merlin's room. Carefully making his way up the stairs, he peered into the manservant's room and saw his shaking form lying on the bed, muffled sobs echoing loudly in the silence that surrounded the two of them. Gently, he pushed out the door and made his way over to the raven-haired youth's side, placing a hand on his shoulder tentatively.  
"Merlin?"  
Glistening blue eyes turned to face him as the youth sniffed loudly.  
_

"Lancelot…it was Arthur he, he kissed me." He shook his head, translucent tears clinging to his lashes. "Why…why would he—"

_The golden haired King stood on the balcony and watched as the sorcerer below him burned, seeming oblivious to the screams the poor woman was emitting. Besides him, the blue-eyed boy was biting his lip, struggling to keep his forbidden tears in check. Later he would drink himself under a table in the Rising Sun, murmuring all the while about burning eyes that condemned him for his cowardice._

"To be cruel." Lancelot told him, crashing back to the reality of the shaking man in his arms. "It seems he knows of your feelings for him and threw them back in your face."  
Merlin glanced back up at him in disbelief. "No—Arthur isn't like that—he wouldn't do that." He shook his head vehemently. "He wouldn't."

_A boy, who gave so much for a kingdom that he would let it bleed him dry, let it steal the very lifeblood from his veins. A golden boy King oblivious to the fact that the most precious thing he had was killing himself for the sake of his and Albion's bright future._

"What other reason could he have?" Lancelot pressed, reaching a hand to caress his cheek. "It couldn't be because he returns your feelings, could it?"

Merlin opened his mouth, but then the triskele around his neck gave another golden glow and his blue eyes became unfocused once more. "No," He murmured, "No—He—no he couldn't."

_Such overflowing love and devotion, falling through pale fingers to bathe the recipient in their warmth, only to slip off golden skin into the dirt and leave the owner of those pale fingers more hollow with every wasted drop._

"Exactly. "He leaned closer to Merlin, the knight's breath ghosting over his lips. "But I could."

He pressed his lips against Merlin's, drawing the manservant into a deep kiss, with the intention of fogging his mind up even more, the triskele glowing brighter underneath the blue of Merlin's tunic. When he broke away for breath, he wrapped his arm around Merlin's waist, holding him close and hiding the smirk playing across his lips.

Fortunately confusion and those images began to sneak back up into his mind, ensuring that he didn't have to try to hide it for too long.

_A pair of brown eyes, locked behind iron bars, lit a protective fire in his chest. He had to get them out, get them far away from here, where they would both be safe. Where they could both be happy._

Agravaine had told him to convince the maid, Guinevere to run away with him, and to kill her once they got far enough away. Leave her broken and mangled body for Arthur to find after he had spent several days cursing her infidelity. So that Camelot's glorious King would not only be heartbroken, but guilt ridden as well. All the more easy to manipulate, all the more easy for his Lady Morgana to take her rightful place on the throne.

_But he had to protect those brown eyes, he had to, he knew it in his bones. He had to. And besides, wasn't it the manservant, Merlin, that he was supposed to be enchanting? Yes, yes that had to be it. It was Merlin he was supposed to take away from here, Merlin he was supposed to kill.  
Yes, yes that was it.  
_

"Merlin." He whispered, lips brushing Merlin's ear, "Come away with me."

Merlin stiffened and pushed back from Lancelot, not getting very far with the knight's arms wrapped around his waist, suspicion cutting through the pendent's pull. "What?"

"Merlin—" The shade began cursing his ineptitude inwardly; clearly he should have built up more before requesting the infernal manservant leave with him.

"You just told me this morning that you had feelings for me," Merlin said, shaking his head as his fingers began to shake. "And now you're asking me to run away with you? The Lancelot that I know would never be so bold, and he would never abandon Arthur, or Camelot, or—" Merlin swallowed thickly, realization lighting up his blue eyes, "Or _Gwen_; **gods** you—"

"Merlin—"

"You're not Lancelot." Merlin started to twist out of Lancelot's hold, desperate to get free. "You—Morgana—"

"Merlin!" Lancelot yelled, moving his hands to grip Merlin's forearm and shaking him slightly, the golden light of the triskele flaring up again and dragging the realization from Merlin's eyes. "Merlin," He said again, poisonously soft, "Is it so hard for you to believe that I love you?"

Merlin looked back at him, blue eyes glazed over once more, though inwardly he wailed and thrashed against the enchantment.

"You love me?" He asked, and his voice sounded so pitifully weak and fragile; so breakable, nothing at all like the powerful sorcerer lurking just inches beneath the surface of his pale skin.

Lancelot smiled, a sinister edge pulling at its corners. "Of course, Merlin."

He raised his hand to brush his thumb over Merlin's plump lips. "Which is why I want to take you away from all this, this painful life. It is painful, isn't it Merlin? Doing so much for the grand King Arthur and then getting not so much as a word of thanks. Doesn't it _hurt_ you so to know that he's only interested in how well you can fold his clothes, when you would risk life and limb for him over and over again?"

Merlin's eyes darkened with another glow from the triskele, falling further into Lancelot's web. "Yes."

"I would take you far away from all that, a distant kingdom in a far off land, somewhere we could make our destiny." Lancelot soothed, running a hand through Merlin's raven hair.

Some awareness flooded back into Merlin's blue eyes and he shook his head.

"I already…have a destiny…" Merlin struggled to say, fighting back the intoxicating golden glow of the triskele. "I have…to protect Arthur…Arthur…let…let me go!" Gold and blue battled for dominance in his eyes, but gold was quickly beaten down by another swift kiss from Lancelot and the damned triskele, allowing the hazy blue to reign over him again.

"Let someone else protect Arthur." He breathed against Merlin's lips. "For once, think about your own happiness. You do want to be happy, don't you?"

He did, oh how he did.

"Yeah." Merlin mumbled, "I do."

"Then let me make you happy." Lancelot implored him, running his hands up and down his sides. "Pack your bags and run away with me tonight."

Merlin felt himself nodding, allowing Lancelot to drag him down for another intoxicating kiss.

The two were so engrossed in one and other that they didn't notice the maid that would be Queen sneaking away from the door.

They also didn't notice when she began flying as fast as he feet could carry her to one of the few people she could still trust.

* * *

Gaius walked down the hallways of the castle, so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear his name being called until his hailer was almost upon him.

"Gaius!" He turned around to come face to face with Gwen, panic etched all over her features, only just managing to slow to a stop and avoid running into him.

"Gwen, my dear girl, what is it?" The old physician asked as concern covered his features and growing dread pooled in his stomach.

"Gaius, Gaius it's—" Gwen broke off into a suppressed sob, taking a moment to regain some control before continuing. "It's Lancelot, he's—he's—it's not him, it's—Morgana—she's—she's done something to him—he's—"

"Calm down, my girl." Gaius soothed, placing a hand on her shoulders. "Start from the beginning."

* * *

Arthur stared at the map before him, Leon's words slipping in one ear and out the other.

Elyan, Gwaine, Percival, Leon and his Uncle were all crowded around the table in the throne room, going over the new patrol routes for the northern borders. But all Arthur could see in the black lines that made up the maps was Merlin's face, hurt and guilt ridden before it fled his chambers. His lips still tingled from the kiss and he could still taste the barest snatches of Merlin when he licked them. It would've been great—if not for the crushing, overwhelming guilt, that he _absolutely_ deserved, currently kicking him right in the kidneys every time he took in a breath.

"Sire?" Leon winced slightly as Arthur's head shot up so fast that it almost snapped.

"Yes?" Arthur replied, with as much regality as he could muster.

Leon raised his eyebrow. "I was asking for your opinion on what men to send to the northern borders, my Lord, but your attention seems to be elsewhere."

"How dare you address your king with that tone?" Agravaine demanded, positively livid. "Do you want to be sent to the stocks—"

"It's alright Uncle." Arthur cut in, raising his hands in a placating manner. "Leon is right, I was not paying attention. My mind was embroiled in other matters."

Gwaine mumbled something under his breath that the other knights pretended not to hear. Something that sounded suspiciously, treasonously, like: "Merlin."

"Make no mistake, I'm not above sending you to the stocks Sir Gwaine." Arthur snapped, finger clenching into fists at his sides.

Gwaine threw his head back with a laugh. "I'd like to see you try, Princess."

Percival gave Gwaine a not-so-subtle elbow and Leon quickly jumped in with another question about the northern borders. "Sire, I would recommend that we don't put Sir Galahad and Sir Lucan together for this next patrol. Sir Erec says that they were at each other's throats constantly last time they—"

"Is that a challenge, Sir Gwaine?" Arthur cut across Leon, making his way around the table to where Gwaine stood.

Gwaine shrugged. "Not really."

"No?" Arthur asked, the festering frustration that had been broiling within him ever since he had seen that mark on Merlin's neck now crawling just beneath the surface of his skin.

Gwaine shook his head, cocky grin beginning to spread across his face. "Well, I don't really consider it much of a challenge to beat someone's who's spent the better part of the last twenty minutes pouting over the fact that his manservant chose one of his knights over him."

Anger and humiliation coursed thickly through Arthur's veins, the words serving as the slap the frustration caged within him needed to break free. Mind in a furious red haze, he drew his fist back and punched Gwaine right in the face, ignoring his uncle's appalled cry of: "Sire!" Gwaine stumbled backwards and Arthur lunged forward, fist pulled back for another strike, only to be pulled back and held in place by Percival. Elyan and Leon grabbed Gwaine, preventing him from striking back.

So the two men simply seethed at each other, anger radiating off of their bodies.

"Keep your nose out of things that don't concern you." Arthur hissed venomously.

"You know, I envy Lancelot." Gwaine huffed, clearly not satisfied with a broken nose. "Merlin can be fairly handsome when he's not freezing to death." He spat the last few words at Arthur's feet, and the King couldn't help but flinch as the image of Merlin's hollow, vacant eyes, floated before him again.

Gwaine grinned and his eyes lit up with a malicious glint when he noticed the impact his words had. "And he's pretty good in bed too."

Arthur froze, before his hands began to shake with anger.

"Gwaine!" Elyan hissed, while Leon tightened his grip.

"Sir Gwaine!" Agravaine squawked, "As a knight of Camelot you _will_ keep a civil tongue in your hea—."

Arthur let out a cry of rage and redoubled his efforts to try and rend Gwaine's head from his body with his bare hands. Percival struggled to hold him place, grunting slightly as Arthur elbowed him sharply.

"Sire, control yourself." Agravaine reprimanded sharply.

Arthur frankly didn't give a flying fuck about controlling himself. He knew it, he knew that slimy, treacherous, traitorous, scumbag Gwaine had had his hands all over what didn't belong to him. He was going to tear him apart, rip and tear that faithless, duplicitous knight until he could never even think about touching Merlin ever again. And then he would strip him of his knighthood, send both him and Lancelot packing, and make sure that Merlin stayed at his side; where he belonged and then he would—

His list of things that would never be was cut off as the doors to the throne room swung open to reveal a grim Gaius and distressed Gwen. But both froze at the sight of their noble King being restrained by one of his knights, fury wreaking havoc over his features.  
"What are you two doing in here?" Agravaine demanded, sweeping towards them irately, "This is a private meeting—"

"I'm sorry Lord Agravaine, but this is an extremely urgent matter." Gaius cut in, giving both the Lord and his nephew one of his steely looks.

Humiliation caused a flush to gather in Arthur's cheeks and he shook Percival off, straightening up and trying once more to gather some air of regality. "What's the matter Gaius?"

Gaius didn't even raise his eyebrow, a sure sign that calamity was upon them.

"Sire, I'm afraid our fears about Lancelot are indeed a reality." Gaius told him, a slight tremor passing through his clasped hands. "He has been enchanted by Morgana, and is currently enchanting Merlin."

"How can you know such a thing?" Agravaine demanded, and Arthur didn't miss the way that Gaius's mouth thinned at his Uncle's protest.

"Guinevere came across him enchanting Merlin just a few moments ago."

"What sort of enchantment?" Arthur demanded, a terrible sort of hope brewing in his chest.

Gaius sent him a sharp look that seemed to pierce right through him. "It appears to be some sort of love spell, your highness."

Terrible, guilty relief swept through Arthur, flushing the anger and frustration from his body for one sweet moment before the harsh reality of the situation set in.

"It was meant for me." Gwen cried, raising a hand to muffle her sobs, "He was going to give it to me this morning, but then he—oh Merlin." She let out another cry and Elyan rushed to her side, wrapping his arms around her comfortingly.

Arthur turned back to the other knights. "Alert the guards and search the castle for Lancelot and Merlin, make sure to let the rest of us know if you find them." Heart pounding in his chest as worry began to eat away at him; he drew his sword and rushed out. The other knights following quickly on his heels before splitting up, while Gaius took over consoling the sobbing Gwen before she pushed his hands away and straightened herself up; rushing out to join the knights in their search.

In the confusion, no one noticed a certain sinister Uncle sneaking away.

* * *

Lancelot wandered down the halls, his memories and orders battling for dominance within his mind. He had to get Merlin away from here, so that he could fulfill his duty for the Lady Morgana. He would lead away from the castle, not far though, a short enough distance that the golden King would not have difficulty finding his broken body. Once he reached a suitable distance, he would take out his sword and—

_Merlin smiled at him from across the banquet hall, laughing silently at Gwaine's antics while Leon buried his head in his hands. He sent him a smile back, before joining the other knights in a toast as the Beltane feast came to its height. _

_When he glanced back at Merlin, his friend—friend—was deathly pale, his eyes huge against his sharp cheekbones, and he looked as though he'd seen a ghost. _

_And then he was falling, down, down, down, the jug slipping from his grasp and hitting the cold floor moments before he did. _

_An unnatural silence rang throughout the dining hall, but no one moved to help him. He could see some of the nobles rolling their eyes and muttering about the uselessness of servants these days. Oh, good help was so hard to find. You only got the ones that would risk life and limb everyday for their King. _

_He glanced to Arthur, expecting their King, this servant's closest friend to rush to his side, call for the physician, anything to help him. But he merely rolled his eyes and huffed, like Merlin was nothing more than a useless weight that he dragged around and put up with just for the sake of appearance. _

_So instead he hurtled across the hall towards the fallen manservant, calling his name. He started shaking him slightly when he refused to wake. This, at least, attracted the attention of the other knights, unfreezing them and causing them to hurtle over to his side as well, all calling this servant's name. _

_Eventually the King made his way over as well, peering over their shoulders and struggling to feign disinterest. And then Lancelot understood, he was a puppet, his strings tied to all the other nobles present, unable to act for fear of their reaction. No matter how much he wanted to he couldn't protect Merlin, not really. That duty would have to fall to his knights, to him._

_ So Lancelot gathered Merlin up in his arms and took him down to Gaius, swallowing down his fear at the deathly cold of his skin, and taking up the sword where Arthur could not. That was, after all, part of his duty as a knight of Camelot. To help Arthur protect its citizens, to help him protect Merlin—  
_

"Lancelot!" He spun around, broken out of his memories by Lord Agravaine's cry, the highly irate Lord sweeping towards him in an angry panic.

"My Lord? What vexes you so—"

"What vexes me so is that you have failed in your duty Lancelot. You have allowed yourself to be caught, by a handmaiden no less! The very handmaiden you were supposed to enchant. Instead I hear that you've enchanted Arthur's manservant—"

"I had to protect her." The words slip out of Lancelot's mouth before he can call them back. "She lives for me, and I for her."

Agravaine freezes, shock smashing him over the head with an iron mallet. "You what?"

"I live for her." Lancelot replied steadily.

"The only person that you live for is the Lady Morgana." Agravaine snapped, his panic rapidly bearing fruit. "You live to do her bidding—"

"And to protect Guinevere." Lancelot countered steadily.

Agravaine's mouth flapped open and he looked as though he was about to protest but thought better of it, time nipping at his heels. "Fine, then you should have no problem disposing of Merlin—"

"I can not. I have to…protect him…too…for Arthur." Lancelot struggled to hold onto that thought, the haze creeping back over his mind.

Agravaine looked positively apoplectic, anger tightening his fists and causing his face to go a rather unattractive red, before a thought occurred to him.

"Yes," He whispered, voice sinisterly smooth, "you have to protect Merlin from Arthur. That's what I came to warn you about. Arthur believes that Merlin has been helping you to infiltrate the castle and learn the Kingdom's secrets; he's going to arrest the both of you on treason. And let me tell you, when he's done with the two of you, Merlin will be begging for death."

Panic lit up Lancelot's face, he couldn't allow that to happen. "We have to get away."

Agravaine shook his head pityingly. "I'm afraid there is no escape, Lancelot. Not for you, not for Merlin. There's only one thing you can do."

Lancelot looked up at him, desperate and completely within his grasp; Agravaine had to force down a victorious smirk.

"What?"

Agravaine rested a hand on his shoulder. "You have to save Merlin from his misery before it has the chance to be borne. Make certain that Arthur can never hurt him, protect Merlin from Arthur for Arthur."

"How?" Lancelot asked, binding himself more and more tightly to Agravaine.

Agravaine looked deep into the shade's eyes, tightening his grip slightly before speaking, making his words ring extra sharp and clear in the silence surrounding them.

"You have to kill him."

* * *

There was a dizzying, terrible fog clouding Merlin's mind. His stomach turned and the magic lingering under his skin was in turmoil, lashing out against the foreign spell's grasp on his heart. He had barely made it to the armory, running into anyone and everyone on his way down. Of course, everybody had just assumed he was feeling down from the severe scolding he had surely gotten after the incident on the practice field earlier. Word traveled fast in this castle, they probably had too many nosy handmaidens, Gwen excluded.

He could hear his heartbeat pounding, terribly loud in his ears, and the metal in the armory was gleaming too brightly, blinding him. With each rub on Arthur's spare chainmail he felt as though he was about to fall apart. The necklace around his neck itched and burned fiercely, and his hand rose to claw at his chest several times, turning it red and raw in a matter of minutes.

And yet it wouldn't** stop** _itching_.

When he next drew his hand away from his chest to find it red and sticky with his blood, he had had enough.

He raised both of his hands and grabbed the necklace, tearing it from his neck with a fierce golden flash of his eyes.  
"_Ewch oddi mi_!" He snarled, and the necklace gave one last futile pulse of magic before the cord snapped.

It fell to the floor, taking with it the intoxicating miasma that had been dragging Merlin down beneath an inky black lake. He took in a sharp breath, enjoying the feeling of the stifling foreign magic falling off his skin, before reality came crashing down around his ears. Oh God—

"Merlin?"

Merlin jumped up, hands out threateningly, as Lancelot wandered into the room. The knight was trying to pervade an air of calm, but couldn't overwhelm the manic feelings boiling restlessly beneath that charlatan calm.

"Stay back." Merlin called, with more bravado and anger than he felt; far more adept at hiding how his heart lay shattering in his chest.

But then, he'd had more practice than anyone by now.

"Merlin." Lancelot said again, barely even glancing at Merlin's outstretched hands as he wandered forward, sword clenched tightly in his hands. "It's all right, you're safe now. I'm going to protect you."

If one more person said that they were going to protect him, Merlin was going to turn everyone in Albion into toads.

And he was going to land Arthur with as much warts as he could possibly manage.

"_Byddwch yn rhad ac am ddim gan eich Hud_!" He cried, eyes lighting up gold.  
Lancelot skidded back a few feet as if he'd been shoved, some awareness crawling back into his features. But he quickly shook that off and started forward again.

"I'm going to make sure that Arthur can't harm you." He said, tightening his grip around his sword, "Make sure you're safe."  
"You're under an enchantment! You can't even keep yourself safe!" Merlin snapped, before raising his hands again. "_Byddwch yn rhad ac am ddim gan eich Hud_!"  
Lancelot stumbled again, awareness slipping back in, taking longer than last time to shake off once more. "I have to do this Merlin. I have to protect you where Arthur can't."

"Oh for the Gods sake!" Merlin bit out. "For the last time, I don't need you, or that insufferable dollop head, or anyone else to protect me. I'm the one who protects Arthur, remember?"

_A shivering, cold, shaking form, wrapped in a blanket. Skin deathly pale and ice cold, eyes that grew ever more distant with every second that slipped through their fingers and fell through the hourglass. The short time that they had before those eyes slipped closed as well, and that strong, humble, noble heart stopped beating would never be enough, not really. Someone had to look out for him; the fool obviously wasn't going to do it himself.  
_

"Someone has to look after you." Lancelot replied, struggling through the memories and two enchantments battling for dominance within him. "You won't do it yourself." _  
_

_So, as my last request to you, Merlin, I must ask you this: that you take care of yourself as well as you do Arthur and Camelot.  
_

"I asked you to do so." Lancelot murmured, raising a hand to his head and loosening his grip on his sword. "But you…haven't…have you?"

Merlin froze, heart thundering far too loudly in his chest in the silence that had fallen over the room.

Lancelot looked up at him, really looked at him, for the first time since he had walked through that veil all those months ago. "Merlin?"

Merlin felt his thundering heart leap up into his throat, forming a lump that he had to swallow down in order to speak again. "It's alright Lancelot, you're under a spell. I'm going to free you, just hold on a little bit longer." He raised his hand, preparing to send another wave at Lancelot when the sound of footsteps hurtling down the hall towards them caught his attention.

"Merlin!" Gwaine rushed into the room, followed closely by Elyan, Percival and Leon.

Merlin threw out his hands in warning. "Stay back!"

Lancelot let out a groan and grabbed his head with his free hand, his other tightening around his sword once more.

Merlin looked to the knights and then back to Lancelot, they didn't have a lot of time, if he was going to act it had to now; and damn the consequences. Merlin closed his eyes for one final moment of hesitation before opening them and raising his hands.

"Lancelot Du Lac, _Byddwch yn rhad ac am ddim gan eich Hud, deffro_!" His eyes flared their treacherous gold and he felt the magic stream out of his body, tying Lancelot to him as the old religion began to work on his friend.

Lancelot dropped his sword and fell to his knees, gripping his head with both hands as the two enchantments fought viciously over him. The ripped and tore at each other within him, as he and Merlin both visibly shook with the effort of battle.

Gwaine stepped forward, fear and worry twisting his face, only to be pulled back by Leon, whose lips were pressed in a thin, grim line.

Merlin felt the strain pulling at his knees, making them wobble and threaten to cave, but he held steady; keeping his hands and head high as he fought back the sinister, slippery stroke of Morgana's magic as it slithered within Lancelot. It was a snake that held remnants of the old religion in it, a sure sign that someone far more powerful than Morgana had had a hand in this. Though he was certain he had never felt magic like this since the isle of the blessed.

Another vicious spike of magic tugged at his gut and he redoubled his efforts, digging his feet into the armory floor as Lancelot flung his head back and howled. The snake hissed viciously, beaten back by the sheer power flowing through Merlin's veins, and Merlin knew; he knew that he simply had to give it one more push and then Lancelot would be free—

"Merlin!"

Merlin snapped his head towards the doorway, eyes growing wide in horror. Arthur stood there, staring at him with eyes wider than Merlin had ever thought possible.

And like that the magic vanished, slipping away from his grasp as dread pooled in his stomach and panic tightened his chest.

He couldn't find out, not now, not like this.

Arthur had thawed out from his frozen position behind the knights and pushed past them, hurrying towards Merlin with fury burning bright on his face. Merlin started forwards, holding his hands up defensively, and taking his eyes off Lancelot.

"Arthur I can explain—" he began, only to be cut off suddenly as pain ripped through his abdomen.

He glanced down to see shining steel poking from his stomach, Lancelot gripping the handle tightly and staring up at him; his eyes painfully hopeful.

The world began to blur slightly around the edges as Merlin sank to his knees, blood spreading out from around the steel blade and staining his favorite blue tunic. He was dimly aware of Arthur shouting his name and running towards him, but he couldn't let Arthur reach him. He would pull him away from Lancelot, and he still had to free the knight from his enchantment.

"_Aros yn ôl_." He murmured, the words barely managing to slip past his lips.

A moment later he could hear Arthur hammering at the barrier and felt a weak smile pull at the corners of his lips. That was his King, so desperate to die for even the lowliest peasant. He'd be great, even without Merlin standing there beside him, looking out for him. Besides Gwen and Gaius would make sure to keep him in check, he was sure of that.

He shifted his gaze to Lancelot, focusing on the knight's earnest face. Once their eyes met, his friend leaned forward and whispered in his ear, ever so gently. "Did I save you?"

He sighed slightly, then let out a gasp of pain as the sword cut into his flesh at the movement.

Hands knuckle white on the cold ground, he nodded, wrapping an arm loosely around his friend. "Yeah," he breathed into Lancelot's ear, "You did, thank-you." It was a true, just not at this moment. He owed Lancelot his life, over and over again, a lifetime debt that he could never repay; but he could try.

After all, he did have one last spell up his sleeve.

He brought his shaking hand down to his stomach, coating it in the warm lifeblood fleeing his body and rubbing it gently over his lips.

"_Ffrind, yn cymryd fy anadl einioes_."

He raised a hand to Lancelot's confused face.

"_Cymryd y gwres fy nwy_."

He brought their faces together.

"_Cymryd y anadl o fy ysgyfaint_."

And then he brought their lips together in a soft kiss, letting his magic flow from his lips and his breath and his blood into Lancelot.  
The hammering at the barrier increased tenfold but Merlin ignored it, drawing back from Lancelot to breath the final words of the spell across his lips.

"_Ac fod yn rhydd_."

Merlin felt the spell shatter beneath his fingers.

Lancelot blinked, utterly confused, but so, so utterly himself at last. Merlin could've cried from relief.

"Merlin, what—" The knight broke off, noticing the wetness of his hands and taking in the terrible crimson running down his blade. He glanced up at him in horror; face awash with guilt and worry. Merlin wanted to console him, to wave away the blood dripping to the cold stone floor below like it was nothing. But he could no longer seem to remember how to speak, his hands had fallen, limp and useless, to his side, and the blackness that had been lurking at the edges of his vision now began to creep in and gradually cover his eyes.

His magic fell away from him and he slumped down, Lancelot's hands shaking him, Lancelot's voice telling him desperately to stay with him. But he was so very cold, and so very tired.

He closed his eyes, just for a moment, only to be shaken awake again to find Arthur's bright blue eyes staring down at him. Distantly, he could hear Gwen shouting at someone but couldn't seem to focus on the words. But then his attention was stolen away again, as it always was, by Arthur as he shook him again.

"Merlin, Merlin, stay with me." Arthur's hands trembled on Merlin's shoulders and he would have given anything to place his own hand over them and still the tremors.

"I order you to—don't just stand there, get Gaius! I order you to stay with me do you hear? Merlin, do you hear me. Merlin—" Arthur's voice sounded terribly broken, and Merlin wanted to fix it, to sew it back together like he had Arthur's tunics. But the blackness was beginning to creep back in again, stealing Arthur's golden hair and blue eyes.

He focused all of his effort on raising his hand and brushing Arthur's lips with his thumb as he whispered one final spell.

"_Byddwch yn ddiogel, cariad_."

His eyes flared their beautiful, dangerous, traitorous, ethereal gold before his hand began to fall. Arthur caught it before it could hit the cold floor, gripping it tightly.

"Merlin, don't you dare—"

"I'm sorry." Merlin breathed, his eyes never leaving Arthur's as they began to slide closed. "I'm so sorry, Arthu—"

"Shut it!" Arthur hissed, fingernails digging into Merlin's palms. "You are not going to die, do you understand me—"  
"What, not ever?" Merlin half laughed, half gasped.  
"Not ever." Arthur told him.  
Merlin shook his head, "Cabbage head."  
"Oi, that's your King you're referring to." Arthur told him, though his voice shook.

Merlin shook his head again, but the movement was weak. "You can't be my King. My King…is…brave…noble…selfless. The greatest King in all…of Albion."  
"He sounds like an amazing King." Arthur told him, though it sounded as though he was choking slightly on the words.  
Merlin smiled weakly. "He is."

He took in one last struggling breath. "I'm sorry, Arthur."  
He was still smiling when the blackness finally managed to sink its claws in and drag  
him under, Arthur's voice chasing after him before eventually fading out.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry it's been so long guys! But here it is, the final chapter. :D

I hope you enjoyed reading my story and thanks for sticking with me til the end.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any of its characters. Those belong to the BBC.**

* * *

"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own."  
― _Robert. A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land._

* * *

Voices chased him through a restless sleep: Arthur shouting, Gaius yelling, Gwen sobbing, Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan, all calling for him. Their voices and tones melded and mixed with one another, entwining him in their desperation.

He heard footsteps sneak towards him, only to be forbidden entry by the bang of a door and its sliding bolt. He felt hands running over his forehead, brushing stray locks of hair behind his ears as soothing promises and despairing bribes were murmured into them. His vision would come, in a swirl of colours and shadows, only to fade away again as his eyes slipped closed once more.

Once a pair of hands had gripped him, shaking him and demanding brokenly that he open his eyes. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't fulfill their frantic wish. Those hands were eventually pried from his shoulders, their owner hauled out the door and away from him. Though, judging by the footsteps, it had taken almost a whole army to remove them.

When he finally did manage to shake off the blackness entrapping him, his eyelids flickering open, he strained his eyes against the sudden brightness to see Arthur sitting in a chair by his bed; slumped over and fast asleep. Merlin blinked in confusion, turning his head to better look at him before trying to sit up—

and immediately regretting it as a fresh wave of pain ripped through his abdomen.

He let out a gasp of pain and sank back to the rough cotton sheets, his soft cry jerking the sleeping King out of his slumber as if it had been a scream. His eyes landed on the very alive, very awake figure of his manservant and his whole body sagged with relief.

"Merlin." _Merlin, __**Mer**__lin, thank the gods. _"You're awake."

Merlin gave him a weak smile. "How observant of you Si—"

Arthur lurched forward, cutting him off, as he dragged Merlin into a desperate kiss, the tension that had been broiling under his skin for the past few days making itself known in his trembling lips. Merlin hesitated only for a moment before giving into the kiss, letting his weary lips be gently pushed open as he tilted his head slightly. When the two finally broke away, Merlin breathing raggedly as he slumped further back onto the bed, Arthur kept his grip on Merlin's shoulders.

"You kissed me." Merlin murmured, gazing up at Arthur in confusion, some vestige of his sleep still clinging to him. "Why did you kiss me?"

Arthur framed Merlin's face with his hands. "Because quite frankly you're the most useless manservant I've ever had and I—" He swallowed heavily. "I care for you a great deal, you dollop head."  
"S' my word." Merlin mumbled, before gazing up at Arthur with concern flickering in his hazy eyes. "What 'bout Gwen?"

Arthur shook his head. "Gwen and I have—we've both decided that there is nothing between us anymore."  
Merlin gazed up at him with concern, eyes coming back into focus. "I'm sorry."  
Arthur shook his head again. "Don't be, just—never do that again." Arthur told him, his fingers shaking slightly.  
Merlin sent him a confused look. "What, kiss you?"

Arthur gave him an incredulous look. "No—what are you—you know what I mean."  
Merlin scrunched up his brow, confusion now fully etched onto his features, before everything came back to him like a slap in the face, realization lighting up his blue eyes. He scrambled backwards, or at least tried to, another gasp of pain torn from his lips as flames of pain lit up his abdomen with fiery vengeance.

Arthur's grip on his shoulders tightened. "You idiot, are you trying to tear your stitches?"  
Merlin glanced up at him frantically. "Arthur I can explain—"  
"Explain what?" Arthur snapped. "Explain how you nearly killed yourself?"

Merlin barely heard him, struggling against Arthur's hands. "I was born with it, I can't help it, and I use it for you, only for you Arthur—"

"Oh for Pete's sake." Arthur cried in frustration. "Merlin keep still—"

"I would never use it against Camelot I promise you Arthur, please believe me I—"

"Merlin I already knew about your bloody magic! Now will you lie still?" Arthur shouted, his heart giving a painful pang at the desperation in Merlin's words.

Merlin froze, his mouth falling open, as he stared up at Arthur, who took this opportunity to force Merlin to lie down again.

"What?"

* * *

Two weeks or so after Lancelot's funeral, Arthur had been making his way down to the armory in search of his knights; hoping to convince them to partake in an impromptu practice session in order to force his mind to focus on things besides warm brown eyes fading away into a veil, and dull blue eyes falling shut. As he approached the armory door, however, the cacophony of hushed voices, the kind of hushed voices that practically scream _secret_, from within drew his attention and curiosity, as it was so often wont to do. It caused him to soften his footfalls and rest his ear against the door, straining it to hear the conversation within.

"—not every man lying on their deathbed confuses to nightmares about being burnt at the stake, Gwaine." Leon's voice carried through the door.

"He isn't every man." Gwaine replied, his tone wary, while managing to remain barbed and more than slightly threatening. "He's given more for this Kingdom than any of you could ever imagine or hope to match, and unlike us, he receives nothing in return."  
"We realize that Gwaine, and none of us would ever think about betraying him—" Elyan's voice was cut off by a bitter laugh.

"For now maybe, with Lancelot's death fresh in your minds," Gwaine told him, dark mirth riddling his tone. "But tell me, what happens to him when you decide that your duty to your King outweighs the last request of one of your closest friends? Will you watch as he burns? As the fire ravages his skin and the smoke chokes all the life from his lungs? Until the man that considered all of you his closest friends is nothing but a pile of charred, smoking—"

Arthur's heartbeat had grown louder in his ears as Gwaine's voice had grown more bitter and jagged; the only criminals that were burned under his rule were those accused and found guilty of sorcery. His own knights, that he had trusted implicitly, were talking about hiding a sorcerer; like the ones that had nearly taken his life on several occasions, like the one that taken Morgana and twisted her mind against them.

A deep rush of betrayal shot through him and his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he prepared to yank open the door separating them and demand that they reveal who this sorcerer was, and who exactly he thought he was, daring to live right in the heart of Camelot.

His hand closed around the handle just as Leon's voice broke through his haze.

"Despite what you may believe Gwaine, you are not the only one who cares about Merlin. Even if Lancelot hadn't requested that we look after both him and Gwen, we would have done so anyway."

Arthur felt his blood run cold.

"You?" Gwaine laughed. "Sir. I-must-uphold-every-law-ever-created-with-a-stick-up-my-arse is going to protect a _sorcerer_?"  
"I know Merlin." Leon replied, though his voice was somewhat strained. "He would never betray Arthur, that I'm sure of."

Arthur let go of the handle and stepped back, a manic laugh threatening to burst past his lips. It was…it was ridiculous. They thought…they thought _Mer_lin was a sorcerer? He waited for the knights to burst out of the door and laugh at his no doubt dumbstruck expression, for the sound of Gwaine's snorts to echo through the corridor as Percival chuckled and Leon and Elyan grinned like idiots.

When the door remained closed and the serious whispers within continued, turning to plans to keep this information from him, rage and betrayal finally broke through his shock.

He turned on his heel and made his way through the corridors up to his chambers like a man possessed, frightening passing chambermaids into alcoves and sending wayward Guards scurrying back to their posts.

Merlin, _Merlin_, was a sorcerer.

**Sorcerer**.

Merlin, his friend, and the one person that he had been sure that he could always rely on, had been lying to him since the very moment they had met.

**Sorcerer.**

He had probably laughed to himself, as Arthur began to grow more and more attached to him, getting ready to put some great master plan into place once he had Arthur's complete and unfailing trust.

**Sorcerer.  
**

Arthur was going to throttle him, grab him roughly by his shoulders and shake away the any last trace of smugness, before dragging him down to the dungeons and locking him up. He was going to leave him shivering down there until he caught his death of cold, until he was starving, begging for scraps of food and forgiveness weakly; pleading for Arthur to show him mercy.

**Merlin.  
**

The idea of which was all well and good until images of Merlin, shivering and starving, a thousand times skinnier than he already was, his lips tinged a terrible blue, his eyes glassy, dull and begging for forgiveness as his voice rasped for the tiniest crumb, pierced through Arthur's anger and he stopped just in front of the door to his chambers. The pounding of his heart receded from his ears, allowing him to hear the tiny muffled sobs that were emanating from his chambers.

**Merlin.**

He opened the door soundlessly; just wide enough that he could peer through. His eyes lit upon Merlin and a fresh wave of betrayal surged through him as he took in his deceitfully familiar and fragile form. His hands tightened around the door handle and he almost pushed open the door and made his way into the room when Merlin let out another muffled sob. He felt his heart twinge painfully as more tears ran down Merlin's cheeks only to be scattered away when Merlin brought up a hand up to his face, his other hand clenching a piece of paper so tightly that Arthur could see the wrinkles. The paper also trembled slightly, a side effect of Merlin's shaking hands. Merlin bowed his head, grabbing the fireplace mantle in an effort to keep standing as exhaustion and grief threatened to send him to his knees.

Arthur had never seen Merlin cry before, his manservant always making sure to turn his head or bite his lip in order to try and fool Arthur into thinking that no crystalline tears were falling from his shining eyes; as though he was afraid of showing Arthur his pain, afraid that Arthur would judge him for it, would call him weak, or deem him not worthy of his attention.

Watching Merlin muffle his sobs even as tears ran down his cheeks made Arthur's chest feel unbearably tight and cause the deepest stirrings of guilt to begin to whirl around in his stomach amid the sharp sting of betrayal and muted anger that still thrummed within his veins.

_"He's given more for this Kingdom than any of you could ever imagine or hope to match, and unlike us, he receives nothing in return."_

A better man than he would have opened the door, would have leant down and wiped away the tears from his cheeks, would have wrapped his arms around Merlin and held him tightly as he sobbed. A better man would have instantly forgone the pain of the betrayal and instead tried to understand the circumstances behind it.

But that's the thing with these better men; they're never around when you need them. And the only man that Arthur had known that could have possibly fit up to those standards had walked through a veil between worlds just a week ago.

So Arthur let go of the door handle and walked away from his chambers and Merlin's sobs, his slighted pride refusing to let him resume his search for the knights for that impromptu practice or enter his chambers and comfort the tearful Merlin.

But at the same time, his own damned heart refused to allow him to open his mouth and order the nearest Guard to drag Merlin to the dungeons and begin building a pyre. The very thought of Merlin's burning flesh was enough to turn him stomach and make his blood run cold, inspiring a need to send him as far away from danger, and therefore Camelot, as he possibly could. And at the same time, the thought of Merlin, far away from Camelot, from him, was unthinkable; leading to a frustrating mess of feelings twisting and churning within him.

After about an hour or so of walking around aimlessly, he went to Gaius' chambers and ordered a sleeping draught, and by the time Gaius had prepared the draught and he had returned to his chambers, Merlin was no longer there.

He then spent the day trying to look over requests from several noble families that hoped he would allow their son to try out for the "recent opening" in his army before tossing away the offending papers and placing his head in his hands. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on the surface of his desk when Merlin came in with red, swollen eyes and his dinner. Merlin set his dinner on the desk beside him, before wandering around the chambers wordlessly.

Arthur watched him carefully through his fingers for a few moments, half expecting Merlin to suddenly turn around and cackle evilly before declaring Arthur a villain and a tyrant and send a blast of magic his way, but he only picked up wayward clothes and pillows from the floor, quieter that Arthur had ever seen him before.

As he was straightening the bed, Arthur broke the silence surrounding them. "Merlin."  
His servant glanced up, features etched with fatigue, and Arthur almost ordered him to go lie down before he collapsed. "Yes, sire?"  
Arthur rested his chin in his hands. "What would you do if I ordered you to leave Camelot and never return?"

Surprise caused Merlin's jaw to drop open and he raised an eyebrow. "You mean if you banished me?"  
Arthur controlled his slight flinch at the word. "Yes."  
Merlin's face scrunched up in confusion. "Why on earth would you banish me?"  
Arthur felt his jaw tighten at Merlin's fake innocence. "Just answer the question."

Merlin regarded him for a moment more in confusion before sighing and returning to straightening the bed. "Well, to be honest, it probably wouldn't do you any good Sire; I mean, _someone's_ got to make sure you don't get yourself killed. And anyway," he sent Arthur a weak smile, "I'm not all that good at doing what I'm told."

"Even if I threatened you?" Arthur pressed, suddenly desperate to know.

Merlin fingers paused before he smoothed out the pillows. "You've been threatening me since the day we met, Arthur, and I'm still here."

He straightened up and clasped his hands behind his back. "Will that be all?"  
Arthur watched him for a moment, taking in Merlin with frustration and wonder.

_I could have you killed._ He raged in his mind. _I could have you thrown in the dungeons, locked away for the rest of your life. I could have you __**burnt alive**__ and yet you stay here, serving me and risking your life for mine. Tell me, what kind of __**idiot**__ are you__**, **_**Mer**_**lin**__?_

He nodded and waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, you may go."

Merlin nodded before heading towards the antechamber, where Gaius had suggested he sleep for at least a little while after Arthur had wound up in the physician's chambers for the third night in a row; his chest heaving desperately for breath after being chased out of his room by nightmares of blue eyes sliding closed and refusing to open no matter what he did.

Arthur turned towards his dinner and, with a ferocity that the chicken had not seen since its demise, and that the rest of the court hadn't seen since Lancelot's, demolished his dinner. Afterwards, he placed the plates outside his door before tugging off his clothes and on his nightwear.

He knocked back the sleeping draught and slipped beneath the covers, and at least sleep rushed up and overtook him quickly, for all the good it did, as his dreams were plagued by the same unrest that had followed him all day.

First he watched as the guards steadily built a pyre in the courtyard, his whole body frozen and torn from his control. He watched, a prisoner in his stiff and cruel body, as Merlin was dragged through the courtyard and tied against the pyre; his blue eyes never leaving Arthur's as he begged him to stop this. Arthur whaled against the iron prison of his body, panic heightening into a frenzy as his mouth refused to open and give the order to stop, to let Merlin go, to _pleaseohpleaseplease__**lethimgo**__don'tdothis__**don'thurthim**__not __**Merlin please**__. _

He watched in horror as his hand rose, giving the command to light the pyre and Merlin's eyes darkened. He gazed up at Arthur with such hurt and betrayal that Arthur found himself wishing that Merlin had cut him open with a sword instead, and he began another wave of thrashing and hollering against his flesh prison. Which he continued to do even as the black smoke and rising flames obscured Merlin's pale, fragile body from view; leaving only his piercing screams ringing in his ears.

Then, the scene changed, and Merlin was standing before him, travelling pack on his back, meeting Arthur's gaze steadily and Arthur felt an intense rush of relief at the unmarred state of his body and the absence of the black smoke that had clouded it from him.

_**Merlin.**__  
_

He stepped forward, hand stretching out and reaching for him, only to have his manservant pull back, shaking his head, unshed tears glimmering in his wounded eyes. Arthur felt his heart ache painfully as he opened his mouth to try and explain, but no sound came out of his mouth. He scrabbled desperately at his throat, trying to wring out a sound, a whimper even, to draw Merlin back into arms reach.

Merlin didn't even meet his eyes, just turned around and began walking away.

Arthur ran after him, reaching forward desperately, but Merlin never seemed to get any closer, always just ahead of his reach.

Frustration tinged with panic and exhaustion flared through him again as his knees buckled from under him, sending him sprawling to the ground. When he gathered the strength to push himself to his knees and look up, Merlin sat just before him; his dull eyes staring unseeingly into nothing and his skin sickeningly pale. Arthur felt his panic rise within him; he remembered this particular scene, it was Merlin after he had met with the Dorocha's touch.

Arthur's hands trembled as he reached towards Merlin, wanting nothing more than to gather him up in his arms, only to have movement in his peripheral vision draw his traitorous attention. A man, with tanned skin, dark hair, and brown eyes knelt by Merlin's side, drawing his manservant into his arms before Arthur's astounded gaze.  
The man looked over Merlin's shoulder at Arthur as Merlin wrapped his arms around the man's shoulders and Arthur felt his heart stop.

_Lancelot._

The knight met his gaze accusingly, staring Arthur down with a fire that Arthur had only glimpsed when they were in the heat of battle. He tightened his grip around Merlin and Arthur felt a painful flare of heat sear through his chest.  
"No need to trouble yourself, Sire," Lancelot's voice held a mocking tone that set Arthur's teeth and the hairs on the back of his neck on edge. "I'll take care of him now; wouldn't want you to have to look after a **sorcerer**, would we?"

With that he drew himself up, Merlin securely locked in his arms, and looked down at Arthur, a smug smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "After all, I'm the one he trusted with his secret, not you." Looking at Arthur out of the corner of his eyes, he leant down and pressed his lips to Merlin's, smug smirk still firmly in place and growing wider.

Arthur felt as though his heart had been carved from his chest; he clenched his fists and tugged furiously at his frozen body, frustration and desperation growing as he was unable to do anything but watch as Lancelot turned and carried Merlin far away from his reach, their lips still pressed together.

_Comeback_Merlin_comebackthisinstance_Merlin_don'tleavemehere_Merlin_Iamyourkingandyouwillbringhimbackthisinstant_Merlin_pleasedon'tgo_MerlinMer_lin_**Merlin!**_**  
**_

"Arthur!"

Arthur shot up out of bed, Merlin's name on his lips as he came face to face with his worried manservant.

"Arthur." Merlin said, concern evident in his tone, "Arthur, are you alright?"

Arthur's eyes met Merlin's in the dark and he found himself unable to speak as an overwhelming sense of relief washed over him.

"Arthur?"

Arthur tore away his gaze from Merlin and coughed slightly, in an effort to try and cover up his breathlessness. "I'm fine, thank-you Merlin."

Merlin wasn't convinced, and Arthur knew the chances of fooling him were nonexistent. For all his bumbling, he had always seemed to know Arthur better than Arthur did. However, he seemed unsure of how to broach the subject, and after a moment of hesitation, let the matter drop.

"I'll go get you some of Gaius's tea." Merlin told him, turning away from the Arthur.

The action sparked a flare of panic through Arthur, dredging up images of Merlin always just out of his reach, and he sprung forward, grabbing Merlin's arm and stopping him.

Merlin turned back to face him, confusion and worry coloring his tone. "Arthur?"

Arthur took a deep breath, trying to steady his pounding heart, and gripped Merlin's arm tighter, relishing in the fact that Merlin was really here, within his reach. And he couldn't place why, but the idea of letting go of Merlin, of letting him wander out of his chambers and away from him was, at this very moment, unthinkable.

"Do you think…could you just…could you just stay here…just for a little bit?"

There was a moment of heavy silence between them and Arthur felt his heart sink before Merlin cut through the heavy pall around them by moving back to the bed, sitting down gingerly on it. Arthur felt the tension fly from his body as he lay back down and took several deep breaths, focusing on the feeling of Merlin's arm beneath his hand, and the fact that Merlin was still within his reach. They stayed like that for a few moments before Merlin carefully broke the silence.

"Do you want me to send for Gwen?"

Arthur shook his head without hesitation, it wasn't Gwen's presence that he needn't to be assured of at this moment, before remembering that Merlin likely couldn't see it in the dark and cleared his throat. "No."

There was quiet for a few more moments before Merlin spoke again. "Would you like to talk about it?"

Arthur shook his head. "No."

The silence fell around them again, and eventually Arthur began to feel sleep overtake him, causing his eyelids to droop down and his breathing to even out.

All of which was undone the second Merlin began to slip his arm away from Arthur's grasp. Arthur shot up again like a bat out of hell, startling Merlin (if the small yelp that he emitted was anything to go by), panic rising up within him all over again. He tightened his grip on Merlin's arm, dragging him down beside him and wrapping his arms around him.

"Arthur?"

Arthur could feel, and no doubt that Merlin could too, his hands trembling from where they rested against Merlin's lower back and he buried his face into the crook of Merlin's neck, breathing him in over and over again to calm his racing heart.

"Just…" Arthur began when he got his voice back under control. "Just stay here."  
He heard Merlin's breath hitch and felt his body tense as he hesitated. "Arthur—"

"Please." Arthur blurted out, cutting Merlin off as he tightened his hold slightly.  
There was another moment of terrible, baited silence before Merlin let out a small sigh and allowed his body to relax. "Okay."

Arthur felt his own body relax and he settled back in the sheets, making sure to keep a good grip on Merlin, as exhaustion quickly rose up and tugged him back into the clutches of sleep.

When he next awoke, it was to sunlight streaming into his room and his eyes. He groaned and stretched out a hand to shake Merlin awake as well, only have his hand meet nothing but thin air.

He shot up immediately, glancing around the room in a near panic, which only rose when no trace of Merlin met his searching eyes.

He was about to jump out of bed and storm the castle for his wayward manservant when the door to his chambers opened without so much as a by your leave, and said wayward manservant stepped into his chambers with several plates of food balanced on a tray on one hand and a jug in the other. He met Arthur's panicked gaze with one of careful surprise. "I just thought you might like breakfast when you woke."

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief before rolling his eyes and stepping out of bed. "Careful Merlin, you're becoming competent."  
Merlin smirked. "Well, at least one of us has to." He said, setting the plates down on the table and placing the jug beside them.  
Arthur ignored that comment and made his way over to the table raising his eyebrow at the amount of food waiting for him. "What's the occasion?"

Merlin poured him a cup from the jug as he answered. "It's to make up for all the meals that you've been skipping recently, you can't expect to run a kingdom if you feel faint all the time."  
Arthur cast his gaze down Merlin's body, taking in the way that his clothes seemed slightly baggier than normal. "Same goes for you; you can't expect to run after me while I run the kingdom if you feel faint all the time."

Merlin's fingers paused for a moment before he handed Arthur the cup. "I'm eating just fine Sire, it's you who needs to start packing away food like you used to. The absence of your piggish eating habits is unnerving the rest of the court and driving the head cook to distraction."

"Then tell me Merlin, when was the last time you ate?" Arthur asked, ignoring Merlin's attempt to distract him (Really? Piggish? Did he enjoy being thrown in the stocks?) and took a sip from the cup, face scrunching up slightly as a warm, sweet liquid ran down his throat.

"What is this?"

"Lavender tea." Merlin replied, making his way over to where Arthur had thrown his clothes the night before and folding them over his arm. "And I last ate last night with Gaius."

"And Gaius will confirm this?" Arthur asked, taking his answer from the way Merlin hesitated before his shoulders slumped. "Right, put my clothes away, then get your skinny arse back over here and sit down."

Merlin rolled his eyes and placed the clothes back in the cupboard before making his way back to the table and sitting down in the chair, raising an eyebrow at Arthur as he did so. Arthur picked up one of the plates, covered with different meats and cheeses and placed it in front of Merlin. Merlin regarded it for a moment before pushing it back and starting to rise from his seat. "I'm not all that hungry right now, Sire, and if you don't mind, I noticed that your armor needed some polishing the other day—"

"Sit down Merlin." Arthur told him, arms crossed across his chest.

Merlin sent him a pleading look but, when nothing but a raised eyebrow met it, sighed and sat back down.  
Arthur leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and holding Merlin's gaze. "I'm going to guess that you haven't been "all that hungry" ever since the isle of the blessed and what happened to Lancelot."

Merlin kept his face as smooth and blank as a marble column. "I would guess the same about you, Sire."

Arthur's gaze flickered down to the full plates in front of him before returning his gaze to Merlin. This couldn't continue.  
"Daily life does not simply stop with the death of one man; no matter how much we may want it to." He picked up one of the meats from Merlin's dish and regarded it for a moment. "And if we are to continue as well, we will have to keep up our strength." He bit into the meat and forced it down his inexplicably dry throat, taking a long sip of his tea afterwards.

Merlin didn't move, his eyes looking anywhere but Arthur and the plate before him. "You are the King, it's necessary for you to keep up your strength. I'm just a servant, I don't—"

"You're my servant." Arthur told him firmly. "That means you'll be trailing after me wherever I go; if anyone needs to keep up their strength it's you."

Merlin looked down at the plate before him, but still made no move towards it.

"Lancelot wouldn't have wanted you to starve yourself."

The words fell from Arthur's lips before he could stop them.

Merlin's gaze shot up to meet his, and the hurt look slipping over his mask left Arthur with a distinct feeling of shame; as though he'd just kicked a puppy. But he met his gaze surely, refusing to take back his words and shoving down the image of the Lancelot from his dream lips pressing his lips to Merlin's.

Eventually Merlin's shoulders slumped under the weight of those words and he reached forwards and picked up a piece of cheese, hesitating before biting into it tentatively. He swallowed roughly and poured himself a cup of tea before he took another bite, this one slightly larger than the last.

Arthur felt relief seep through him and he grabbed a drumstick of chicken from his own plate. "We'll get through this." He told him, tearing a piece off of it and swallowing a little less harshly this time. "One chicken at a time."

The bad joke was a sore trade for Merlin's, however small, answering smile.

* * *

But smiling was the furthest thing from Merlin's mind as he stared up at Arthur, his brain struggling to process Arthur's words. "You know? For how long?"

Arthur blinked away his memories. "I heard the knights talking a few weeks after Lancelot's death."

Merlin looked at him, aghast. "The knights know as well?"

"Only Gwaine, Elyan, Percival, and Leon." Arthur told him soothingly.  
"Oh, _only _them." Merlin retorted, covering his face with his hands.

When Arthur remained silent, he peered through his fingers, curiosity overcoming his features. "If you knew, why haven't you…you know…started building a pyre?"

Arthur gripped him tightly, images from his nightmare resurfacing once more.  
"I would never—I would rather carve out my own heart than see you burn—see you hurt at all. So why don't you tell me why you thought what you did in the armory was a good idea." And Merlin had been around Arthur long enough to know that it was an order, not a request.

He'd also been around Arthur long enough to know how to hold his own.

He shook his head. "It was the only way to—"  
"To what? Get yourself killed?" Arthur demanded, though his voice shook on the word 'killed'.

Merlin winced before giving him an irritated look. "I can't explain if you keep interrupting me. And everything was going perfectly well until you burst into the room and distracted me."

Arthur clenched his jaw but said nothing, and Merlin took it as he cue to continue.

"I knew I could free Lancelot from Morgana's hold, but when you burst in and he…injured me, I had to switch strategies."  
"So you kissed him." Arthur cut in again, more than a little bitterness emanating from his voice.  
Merlin sent him a look. "I was enchanting him, you prat."

"Well, I suppose that's one way of putting it." Arthur muttered sullenly and Merlin rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Gaius says that your little spell on Lancelot, and the one you put on me, nearly killed you as much as that wound on your stomach did."

Merlin looked away from him. "I had to make sure."

"Make sure what?" Arthur asked, confusion breaking out on his face.  
Merlin focused on the chest across the room, struggling to keep his voice steady.

"That if I didn't wake up again, both of you would be alright."

A heavy silence fell over the two as the gravity of Merlin's words hit Arthur hard in his stomach. Causing him to almost double over as his fear gripped his heart with its painful iron talons and dug in sharply, deeply. He reached out, leaning down as he gripped Merlin's chin and turned his head to meet his urgent lips. Merlin's hands came up in protest scrabbling at his chest and shoulders. "Arthur." He breathed across his lips. "Arthur—"

"Never ever again, do you understand me?" Arthur's voice openly shook now, his whole body trembling slightly as he captured Merlin's lips once more. "Never. Ever. Ever. Again. You aren't even to entertain the _possibility_ of dying do you understand me? You aren't to endanger yourself for my sake, or any other's, ever again."

Merlin gazed up at him in equal parts devotion and exasperation. "I can't promise you that."  
Arthur's grip tightened. "Merlin—"

"It is my destiny to protect you Arthur, with my life if necessary." Merlin sent him a sad smile. "My life is nothing compared to yours; I live only to serve you, and only you—"  
"Then prove it." Arthur snapped. "If you live to serve me then obey my command."  
Merlin shook his head. "Arthur—"

"No, Merlin!" Arthur shouted, leaping to his feet and pacing. "I refuse to accept this; enough with the drinking poison for me, letting yourself be bruised and battered because you refuse to use your magic in front of me, and riding off into gods know where to barter your life for mine."

Merlin winced and Arthur felt his anger leap at the action. "Oh yes, Gaius took great pains to inform you of all you have done for me. Of all the times you lay dying and refused to come to me for help because you feared I would turn on you."  
"Arthur I—" Merlin tried.

"And I'll bet there are thousands of times that he isn't aware of either." Arthur continued. "Can you list them for me Merlin—"  
"Only if your knights could list theirs." Merlin shouted back, his throat stinging with the effort.

Arthur froze mid-rant. "What?"

"Your knights risk life and limb for you every day of their lives, simply by wearing your colours and bearing your sigil." Merlin replied steadily. "Which is exactly what I do."  
"That's entirely different." Arthur retorted, though his voice had lost some of its energy and he had deflated slightly.  
"I think you'll find it isn't." Merlin told him softly.  
Arthur opened his mouth to say something but, when nothing came out, he shut it instead.  
"Arthur." Merlin tried to sit up again, but found he couldn't, wincing slightly as he sank back to the mattress.

Arthur rushed back to his side instantly. "For the last time, lie still you idiot."

Merlin glanced up at Arthur, sighing as he and reached for his hand.

"Arthur; there isn't a single one of your friends that would not give their lives in your service."  
"I don't want them to." Arthur countered stubbornly, childishly. But Merlin attributed that more to the dark circles under his eyes than the amount wisdom he knew lay beneath that golden hair.

He smiled slightly. "I know. But that is what it is to be King; to let others sacrifice their lives for yours. You know that."  
Arthur nodded, running a hand through his hair. "I know."  
He shook his head. "But not you Merlin. Not you."

"Arthur—"

"Please." Arthur begged, so terribly broken, hands gripping Merlin's bed sheets tightly. "Please not you. Never you. You can't ever—"  
He looked up at Merlin, his eyes hooded and haunted by Merlin's blood slipping to the stone floor below as he hammered uselessly at an invisible barrier, before that ugly crimson stained his hands as he fought uselessly to shove it back in. Blue eyes slipping closed before his eyes once again as Merlin's body went still in his arms.

"I can't lose you." It was a broken admission and squeezed Merlin's heart painfully. "Promise me that you'll look after yourself, for the both of us."

_Take care of yourself as well as you do Arthur and Camelot._

Merlin gripped Arthur's hand tightly. "I promise."

Relief, however minute, coursed through Arthur's veins and caused his shoulders to slump slightly. The sight caused a painful lump to form in Merlin's throat and he struggled to change the subject. "How's Lancelot?"

Arthur sighed. "He's fine, Gwen's looking after him. He told me what happened, or at least, what he remembers. Which isn't a hell of a lot." He looked a little guilty.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. "He tried to come and see you, Gwaine as well, but I sent them away."  
Merlin's brow wrinkled with confusion. "Why did you—"  
"Did you really sleep with him?" Arthur cut in, jealousy tightening his jaw at the thought.

Merlin felt shock course through his veins. "What?"

"Did you really sleep with Lancelot?" Arthur asked again. "And Gwaine."  
"Of course I didn't sleep with Lancelot!" Merlin snapped as his cheeks went from light pink to bright red. "And what—what makes you think I slept with Gwaine?"

Arthur muttered something under his breath that Merlin couldn't quite catch. "What?"  
"We got into an argument, and he tried to irritate me be saying that you were pretty good in bed." Arthur repeated, at a louder volume, his own cheeks heating slightly.

"What kind of argument—"  
"Just answer the question."

Merlin looked away from him and Arthur knew the answer.  
"You have, haven't you?"

Merlin held up his hands in defense. "Look, it was a long, long time ago and—"

"When." Arthur very nearly growled.  
Merlin sent him an exasperated look. "Does it really matter?"  
"_**When**_."

"All right, relax! It was when you went off on that quest to get King Fisher's trident and we had to go rescue you. Gods, are you satisfi—"

Arthur lunged forward, pressing their lips together once more, stealing the breath from Merlin's lungs and making it his own. Before leaving his slightly swollen lips and traversing down the pale column of his neck as he straddled Merlin, pausing when he reached the fading mark that Lancelot had made. He bit back the harsh remark lingering on his tongue at the sight of it and instead pressed his lips to it; wringing a cry of pleasure from Merlin's lips as he offered up his neck further into Arthur's. Arthur pulled back when he was satisfied, enjoying the way his mark completely covered Lancelot's before making another, and then another, all the way up and down Merlin's neck.

Merlin threaded his hands through Arthur's hair and tugged him back up in the direction of his mouth. Arthur gave him one more mark before acquiescing to Merlin's silent demand and returning to ravage his mouth as he had his neck.

"Never again." He commanded into Merlin's mouth. "No one else. Promise me."  
"Only if you'll promise me." Merlin replied, breathlessly.  
"I do." Arthur met evenly, his eyes smoldering as he held Merlin's gaze. "Your turn."

Merlin shivered. "I promise."

Arthur grinned. "Good." He leaned down to capture Merlin's lips in another kiss—

Only to nearly fall off the bed in shock as the door to Merlin's room swung open with a bang, startling the both of them.

"Forgive me, Sire, but Merlin is still recovering. Perhaps you could continue your business with him later."

Gaius's voice and eyebrow held so much frigidity that Arthur could feel frostbite beginning to claim the tips of his fingers and toes.  
"Gaius." Merlin groaned, throwing a hand over his face.  
"Surely you have other matters to attend to Sire," Gaius continued smoothly, ignoring Merlin's protest, "seeing as you've neglected the council and Kingdom so these past few days. Matters, I wager that are far more important than despoiling my ward, and re-opening his wound in the process."

"Gaius!" Merlin squeaked in protest, and Arthur would have found it amusing, if not for the fact that Gaius's lethal eyebrow was still aimed in his direction. As it was, he leapt off of Merlin with an awkward bluster and strode out the room as Gaius strode in. He closed the door, listening for a moment as Gaius fussed over Merlin.

"Really, Merlin those spells—never should have told you the story—can't believe you actually managed to make them work—nearly killed you—don't you ever do such a thing again—supposed to be a last resort—watch your tone young man—drink this and go back to sleep before the others show up—I don't _care_ if it tastes like frogs Merlin—what do you think it's made out of?"

Arthur huffed out a laugh and made his way out of the room, shaking his head slightly. There were still some questions that he had to ask Merlin, but that could wait until later. Gaius was right, he had neglected his Kingly duties for far too long; it was time to catch up.

* * *

"Thank the Gods," Gwaine muttered as the knights made their way up stairs, returning from their visit to Merlin's room, taking the opportunity of Arthur actually leaving for the first time in days to wish him well and drill him for information now that Arthur had finally left his side "now we might actually be able to get through a practice without Arthur making one of the newbies cry."

"And perhaps without copious amounts of bodily harm." Leon agreed, a small smirk curling at the corners of his lips."

"So long as Camelot's new favorite couple doesn't argue constantly and put Arthur in even worse moods." Elyan murmured thoughtfully.

"You mean so long as Arthur keeps his head out of his arse and doesn't muck things up. " Gwaine replied, turning the corner down the hall to the practice field.

"Merlin could muck things up too, Sir. Gwaine," Leon told him half-heartedly.

Gwaine snorted. "Please. Merlin thinks Arthur hung the sun and moon, even if he'd never tell him that. He's idiotically devoted to the princess; no force on heaven or earth could sway his faith in our gracious King."

"Besides," Elyan said, "what would they even fight about?"

"Merlin putting himself in mortal danger for Arthur?" Percival suggested and the other knights turned to look at him. "Arthur putting himself in mortal danger for Merlin?"

A short silence filled the corridor for a moment as the knights paused.

"How often could that happen?" Elyan asked cautiously, nervous at the silence of the other knights, which only grew more strained and tense at his words.

And then Sir Gwaine let out a mournful cry.

"We're going to be black and blue forever."

* * *

Merlin lay down in his bed, his mouth still twisting in revulsion from whatever gods awful concoction Gaius had forced down his throat. He took a deep breath and raised his arms to his lips, fingertips brushing them lightly as he remember the feeling of Arthur's lips against them.

He sighed contently and let his hand fall back to the mattress, or rather, what could, on very, very good days, pass for a mattress. His eyes had just fallen closed and he had just managed to settle around the lumps in said pseudo mattress, when a small, sheepish knock came on the door.

"Come in." He called, keeping his eyes closed for one moment more before allowing them to flicker open as the doorknob turned and Lancelot slipped into the room.

"Lancelot." He cried in surprise, shooting up in bed before his abdomen once again reminded him why sudden movement of any kind was a spectacularly bad idea.

"Easy, Merlin." Lancelot told him, making his way over to gently push Merlin back down as the manservant winced pitifully. "I'm sorry for startling you, it's just—"

"Arthur wouldn't let you within ten feet of my door?" Merlin asked wryly, sending Lancelot a small smile.  
"Actually he wouldn't let me within fifty feet of Gaius's door." Lancelot told him, sending him back a wry smile of his own, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Merlin laughed then winced as the movement pulled on his injury. "Sounds like Arthur." He rolled his eyes, "Despite learning that I'm the most powerful sorcerer in all of Albion, he still thinks that if someone breathes wrong around me I'll shatter."

"Maybe if you didn't always end up in dangerous situations he'd think otherwise." Lancelot kept his voice purposefully light, carefully light. But despite his efforts there was a deeper pull to his words that stole the smile from Merlin's face.

"Lancelot—" He began.

"No Merlin," The knight interrupted, holding up a hand, "let me speak first."  
He took a deep breath. "What I did to you—all that I did to you—is completely unforgivable. I acted in a manner unbecoming of a knight and despicable of a friend. I wouldn't blame you or Arthur if you wanted me to leave Camelot and never return."

"Lancelot, you can't blame yourself for—" Merlin began.

"Yes I can Merlin. It was entirely my fault." He clenched his fists at his side. "If I'd been strong enough to throw off the enchantment on my own then you wouldn't have—" He took a deep breath, trying to calm the slight tremor in his palms. "You wouldn't have been hurt."

Merlin stared at him for a moment before letting out a small sigh. "Well, if you're going to be banished I suppose we'd better throw me out too."

Lancelot's brow screwed up in confusion. "Merlin—?"

"I tried to kill Arthur." Merlin spoke the words like they didn't twist his gut more painfully than any sword ever could. "Morgana kidnapped me when we were in the forest and enchanted me. I tried to poison him, give him an acid bath, shot a crossbow at him, and came after him with a sword. Eventually, Gaius and I figured out a solution, but I wasn't able to overcome the enchantment on my own."

He raised his eyes to look at Lancelot, his eyes calm and serious. "If being enchanted is a crime, then half of Camelot would be banished."

Lancelot was more still than any marble statue could ever hope to be.

When Merlin next spoke, his voice was soft. "It wasn't your fault Lancelot. And I don't blame you for it. But if you need my forgiveness then you have it. And you have to know that you'll always have it, no matter what."

Lancelot was silent for a moment, and when he finally spoke his voice was cracked slightly along the edges. "Thank-you Merlin."

Merlin sent him another soft smile before breaking out into a teasing grin. "Besides, I don't this Arthur would last long if he banished you. Gwen would probably strangle him."

Lancelot let out a laugh and Merlin felt his grin grow even wider.

Gods he'd missed this.

* * *

"You never told me what those spells were."

Arthur said to the back of Merlin's neck, Arthur all caught up on the affairs of the Kingdom, and Merlin's wound fully healed, as the two rested together in bed, snug and content. Merlin gave a questioning, and sleepy, hum, and Arthur rolled his eyes, poking his manservant to wake him up more. "What?"

"Those spells that you did in the armory, Gaius said they were from some sort of story?"

Merlin blinked for a few moments before the pieces slid back together in his mind.  
"Oh right."

Arthur gave him another poke. "So?"

Merlin snuggled deeper into the bed, enjoying the warmth it provided before he began. "It's silly really."  
"**Mer**_lin_." Arthur (whined) demanded. "Do I have to order you?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "You could try, but I'm not certain that will work all that well for you, Sire."

"**Mer**_lin_."

"Alright, fine."

Arthur settled up carefully against Merlin's back and further into the warm blankets, with a definite air of smug satisfaction, as Merlin gave another eye roll before starting his story.

"Once, when I was sick, Gaius told me this story about a white witch who fell in love with a regular, plain, farmer who worked the fields a short ways from her house. And he fell in love with her, even though he knew she was a witch, and the two courted in secret."

"She crafted beautiful talismans that would make his crops yield a bountiful harvest every year, even when storms savaged the land. And he fashioned her jewelry out of polished stones, carved little animals out of wood for her, and brought her flowers whenever he thought she looked sad; staring out her window into the vast world beyond. And they were happy together."

"Gaius tells you love stories when you're sick?" Arthur snickered behind him and Merlin elbowed his sharply. "Oi!"

"Shut it, Sire."

Arthur grumbled slightly but he settled back into the silence and waited for Merlin to continue.

"But there was a dark witch, jealous of the two lovers, who had cursed a dear friend of the white witch, another sorcerer. She enchanted the sorcerer into believing that he was in love with the white witch and convinced him that he had to do whatever her could to steal her away from the poor old farmer. He tried to dazzle her with his magical prowess, but she was not moved. No matter what he did, no matter how many jewels he brought her, no matter how many dresses he fashioned from silk and starlight, she wouldn't leave that farmer."

"Dresses of silk and starling, huh? Blimey, he must have liked her a lot." Arthur murmured into Merlin's neck, his tone jovial, but he tightened his arms around Merlin just a fraction more.

"Until finally, driven mad by the enchantment, he stabbed her with his staff, determined that if he couldn't have her, no one else could."

Arthur's arms tightened far more than a fraction then, as Merlin swallowed heavily and both of them remembered the armory, and Merlin's blood pooling around them.

"As the white witch lay dying, she finally realized that her friend was under the control of a dark witch, so she summoned up the last of her strength to try and free him from the curse."

Merlin swallowed again for a moment before continuing, raising his fingertips to his lips as he continued.

"She dipped her fingers in the blood flowing from her wound and painted her lips with it, and in the words of the old religion, she told him: "_Friend, take my lifeblood_."  
Merlin raised his hand slightly in the air, eyes caught by the image of Lancelot's pale, confused face hanging before him.

"And then she raised a hand to his face and said: "_Take the heat from my hands_."

"Then bringing their faces together she said: "_Take the breath from my lungs_."

"And then she kissed him." Arthur supplied, catching on at last.

Merlin turned his head slightly and shot him a look. "Only for a moment!" He insisted, rolling his eyes, before turning and settling back into the bed and the story. "And then she moved back and breathed the final words of the spell across his lips.

"_And be free_."

Merlin felt a sad smile tug at the corners of his lips. "And he was."

Arthur was silent behind him, but he pressed his face into the crook of Merlin's neck, as though assuring himself that he was still there.

"The sorcerer, now free from the enchantment, ran and fetched the farmer, who arrived just in time to hold his lover in his arms as she lay dying." Merlin continued, turning over in Arthur's arms to face him. "And as she lay there, she fixed her loving eyes on him and whispered one final prayer in the words of the old religion."

He raised his fingertips to ghost across Arthur's lips, while Arthur raised an eyebrow amidst the solemnness blanketing his face.

"Which was?"

Merlin smiled slightly.

"_Be safe, love_."

There was a moment in silence as those three words seeped into Arthur, penetrating deep into his heart and bone.

Then the once and future king snorted.

"Gods, you let Gaius tell you cheesy love stories when you're sick." Arthur huffed out in laughter, but there was a sharp edge to his tone that belayed the flurry of emotions roiling beneath his skin. "Wait until the knights hear about this."

Despite his jovial tone, his hand slipped over to rest on Merlin's chest, just over his heart, checking to make sure that it still lay beating underneath the manservant's skin. That the warmth he felt radiating back into his own flesh was more than a cruel façade his grief ridden mind had cooked up to fool him into thinking Merlin was still there.

Merlin huffed indignantly. "I saved Lancelot with that cheesy love story, you giant prat. You're supposed to be amazed that I managed to remember it with a great bloody sword stuck in me."

Arthur's breath caught in his throat at the reminder, but he rolled his eyes.

"Really Merlin, you're already useless enough as it is, I was certain a giant sword was going to hinder you anymore than you do yourself."

This time Merlin rolled his eyes. "Remind me why I don't just turn you into a toad and be done with you?"

"Because a great big, bloody dragon went and told you that you have to bumble around me for the rest of your life and you fell for it."

"I'm fairly certain that it was a bit more complicated than that."

"I'm fairly certain that it wasn't."

Merlin gave an exasperated sigh and shifted slightly in an attempt to loosen Arthur's arms and slip away, but Arthur merely tightened his grip and drew Merlin into another soft kiss that stole the breath from their lungs. As he pulled away, Merlin stared at him for a moment, devotion so strong it was almost painful echoing within his eyes. Arthur looked back with that same devotion before allowing a smirk to creep onto his face.

"Hmm, or maybe you've just been head over heels for me ever since the first moment you saw me."

Merlin snorted. "Dream on, you dollop head."

"I'm in your dreams too? Oh Merlin, I never knew you cared."

Merlin gave a groan and turned his head into the pillow with a grumble.  
"I'm so turning you into a toad."


End file.
